The constable on point duty, who had taken his number half an hour earlier, saw the Bentley coming and held up his hand to stop it. It drew up alongside him, and Amberley leaned out to speak to him.
"Has a dark blue Vauxhall, five-water limousine passed during the last hour? Number PV 80496. Think, man!"
The constable said grimly: "I don't need to think for what I'm going to do. I'll trouble you for your name and address."
Amberley sat back. "Speak to the fool," he said.
The sergeant was already preparing to do so. He spoke a language the constable could easily understand and had heard before.
"But - but, Sergeant, I 'ad my hand up, and he went past me like a streak of lightning. He must 'ave seen it, but he never took no notice. He went…'
"The wonder to me is he could see what was behind it," said the sergeant unflatteringly. "You answer him and be quick about it. He's Mr. Frank Amberley, that's who he is."
"I didn't know who 'e was," said the constable resentfully. "All I know was he disregarded my signal to him to stop."
"Get on with it! You can charge me some other time," said Amberley. "A Vauxhall limousine, PV 80496."
The constable scratched his chin. "There was a Morris Oxford went down the Lumsden Road," he said. "That wouldn't be it."