On the Littlehaven side of the creek the bungalows grew less and less pretentious till they petered outt altogether; at the creek mouth a few fishermen's cottages huddled together round a Martello tower.
When the Bentley tore through Littlehaven Mr. Amberley did not stop to inquire for the Vauxhall, but jolted over the cobbled streets till he met the coast road. This had a tarred surface, and the car, badly hampered by the cobbles, leaped forward again and ran beside a depressing asphalt sea-walk, with the beach and the moonlit sea beyond, and a row of red and white bungalows on the other side of it.
From the level-crossing onwards Amberley had met with bad luck. Once the road was up and the signals had been against him; he had lost time waiting for a horse and wagon to crawl slowly over the narrow causeway; once, in a town of some size, he had been held up at every crossing and still further detained by the efforts of a blandly unconcerned female to turn a large Humber in a narrow road. She blocked the way for several precious minutes, twice stopping her engine, and looked stonily indignant when Amberley put his thumb on his electric hooter and kept it there. The sergeant's heart jumped into his mouth when, long before the female had completed her turn, the Bentley glided forward, mounted the pavement and almost brushed past the other car still, as it were, spreadeagled across the path.
But in spite of this ruthless manoeuvre time had been lost, and glancing at his watch Amberley doubted whether he had lessened the distance between the Bentley and the Vauxhall.
The sergeant, when he saw the sea with the moonlight on the water, was moved to remark that it looked pretty. He got no answer. "Where are we going to, sir?" he inquired.
"There's a creek," Amberley replied briefly. "We're almost on to it. On the opposite side, set back about four or five hundred yards from the seacoast, there is a bungalow. That's where we're going."
"We are, are we?" said the sergeant. "I suppose we just drive across the creek. Or swim."
"We shall go across in a boat," replied Amberley.
"Well, I'd as soon have gone round by road, sir," said the sergeant. "I never was a good sailor, and I don't suppose I ever shall be. What's more, I haven't got any fancy to have you driving me about in a motorboat, and that's the truth. Besides," he added, as a thought struck him, "how are you going to come by a motorboat at this hour?"
"I've got one waiting."