"Oh, my God!" said Amberley. "A large car, man! Bonnet with two scoops out of it."
"No, I haven't seen it," said the constable as though he were glad to be able to say so. "I seen Mr. Purvis' Daimler, but I haven't seen no other big car, not during the past hour I haven't."
Mr. Amberley's hand found the gear-lever. "Hold up that cart; I'm going to turn," he said.
"Don't stand there goggling, hold it up!" commanded the sergeant. "Lor' I never see such a fat-headed lout!
Right away, Mr. Amberley, sir, and for Gawd's sake mind that perishing cyclist!"
The Bentley went round the constable with a growl and shot off down the High Street. The constable, still holding up the horse and cart like a man in a trance, heard the infinitesimal check of the gears changing, then the hum of a high-powered car travelling at speed away into the distance, and came back to earth to hear himself being rudely addressed by the Carter.
"Where's the nearest constable on point duty past Ivy Cottage, Sergeant?" asked Amberley.
"There ain't one. There's an AA man about a mile on, at the Brighton Road crossing, but he won't be on duty now. It's too late."
"Damn. What are the turnings?"
"None, till you get to the Brighton crossing, if you don't count the lane leading to Furze Hall. I'll tell you what, sir! They're widening the bridge at Griffin's corner, before you reach the crossing. There'll be a man there directing the traffic."