"I don't want to buy the car," said the sergeant. "Which way did it go?"
The youth was looking admiringly at the Bentley. His lips moved in a silent enumeration of her points, but being in awe of policemen, he dragged his gaze away from it and answered Sergeant Gubbins. "It went over the bridge, first, then I seen it turn off at the crossing."
Amberley spoke. "Who was in it?"
The youth shook his head. "I dunno, sir."
"I mean, a man, or a woman, more than one person?"
"I dunno, sir."
"It's no good talking to him, sir," said the sergeant. "I got a nephew like him. If a kangaroo happened to be driving the car he wouldn't notice. Sickening, I call it. jabber about differentials all day long that sort do, but take a bit of interest in something that don't move on wheels, oh no! Not them!"
The Bentley moved forward. "The Brighton crossing," Amberley said. "Heading south. I think — I very much think - I've got you, my friend. Sergeant, we shall have to travel rather quickly."
"Of course we haven't been, have we?" said the sergeant. He waited until the car had turned on to the secondary road leading southwards, and then seeing no immediate danger in front of them, said: "Now, sir, if you don't mind, where are we, so to speak? It seems to me you know a sight more than what I do. We're chasing a certain Vauxhall limousine which has got three quarters of an hour's start of us. I got my own idea who's in that car, but how he had the nerve to come by it I don't know. I've often noticed the quiet ones is the worst. It looks to me like a nasty case. Has he done in the young lady, sir, do you think?"
There was a moment's silence, and the car seemed to leap forward, like a horse given the spur. The sergeant, looking round at Mr. Amberley's profile, saw it so grim that he confessed later it gave him a turn.