"Yes, that's all very well," said the sergeant, "but why should he want to go and murder the young lady?"
"Because she's his cousin," replied Amberley.
"Oh!" said the sergeant. "Because she's his cousin. Of course that explains everything, don't it, sir?"
"It ought to," said Amberley, "if you can put two and two together."
The sergeant was still trying to work out this simple sum when the car drew up at the police station. Mr. Amberley set him down there and drove on to the inn on the quay.
The golden-haired landlady greeted him with comfortable tidings: the poor young lady was nicely warmed up and drinking a cup of hot soup. He might go upstairs to see her if he liked.
Shirley, looking very slight in the landlady's dressing gown and a great many shawls, was sitting on the floor in front of a huge fire sipping a cup of hot soup and drying her short, curly hair. She knew that decided knock and said, "Come in," rather shyly.
Mr. Amberley entered and shut the door behind him.
He came towards the fire and stood looking down at Shirley with the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Well, Miss Shirley Brown," he said, "I do find you in awkward situations, don't I?"
She gave a small laugh but shuddered a little. "Please."