"My God, you're a fine policeman!" Amberley said savagely. He got to his feet. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't hear anything? No footstep? No car?"
The unfortunate Tucker tried to concentrate his mind. "A car. Yes, I heard a car. But it went up to the farm. It didn't stop."
"What sort of a car? Did you see the number plate?"
"No. No, I only got a glimpse as it passed the gate. I think it was a closed car. It was a big one."
"Colour?"
"I couldn't see, sir. It was too dark to see."
"Listen to me!" Amberley said. "There's a cake of mud on the table in the living room. You've got to take that to the police station. There's an imprint on it. Understand?"
Tucker nodded and managed to get up. Mr. Amberley turned and strode towards the gate. Bill's desperate whines made him look over his shoulder. "Look after the dog. There's a leash in the kitchen."
He was gone. Tucker heard the car start and sat down on the seat to recover his equilibrium.
Amberley drove the car into Upper Nettlefold and through the High Street to the Market Square. There was a garage at the corner with petrol pumps displaying globes lit by electricity. He ran the car under one of these, said curtly to the man in attendance: "Fill her up!" and got out, slamming the door behind him.