"Well, pray God he's not a fool," said Amberley, swerving to avoid a careless pedestrian.
The sergeant clutched the door and righted himself. He refrained from comment but said: "I dunno, sir, but if you ask me it ain't what you'd call a brainy job, turning a signboard round and waving a lantern. Look out, sir, there's a bend coming!"
"You leave me to drive this car my own way," said Mr. Amberley.
The sergeant held his breath as the car swung round the bend, and ventured to relax again. "I've been in this district some years now, sir," he said slowly.
"You won't be here much longer," said Amberley.
"Not if you're going to drive at this pace, I won't," retorted the sergeant. "But what I was going to say was, I know a good few of the cars about here."
"Bright of you."
The sergeant ignored this. "And I know who owns a blue Vauxhall limousine, Number PV 80496. And I can tell you this, Mr. Amberley, you've got me fair gasping. That's the bridge ahead, sir! Go easy!"
The youth on duty there was moodily swinging a green lamp, but Amberley pulled the car up. The sergeant was nearest the youth, and he leaned out and inquired whether the Vauxhall had passed over the bridge.
The youth turned out to be typical of his generation. Very few cars passed him which he did not closely inspect and appraise. He was not interested in numberplates, but he had held up a big Vauxhall about three quarters of an hour earlier to let a lorry come over the bridge from the other side. He began to enter into a detailed description of the horsepower and year of the car, but was cut short.