"Seeing that you've had so much to do with this case," said the inspector nastily, "I thought you might want to perform the actual arrest."
Amberley regarded him blandly. "I've no doubt you'll manage to make a mess of it," he said, "but there is it to the amount of work I'll do for you. I've given your case; now get on with it."
The inspector choked, caught Sir Humphrey's austere eye, and stumped out of the room.
When the two girls came downstairs again an inviting supper had been spread on a table in the drawing room for Shirley. It was easy to see that Felicity had coaxed the whole story out of her, for she was round-eyed with wonderment. She had provided Shirley with her ncwest frock, so that it seemed that the engagement had her fullest approval.
It was three quarters of an hour later when they heard yet another car drive up to the front door, and Shirley had just finished her supper and declared herself able to talk of the events of the day with equanimity. Sir Humphrey was not unnaturally anxious to hear his nephew's explanation of all that had happened since the murder of Dawson. Even Lady Matthews was roused to request Frank to tell them about it. At the moment, she said, it was like a jigsaw puzzle. You saw what was on each piece, but you couldn't fit them together to make a picture.
When he heard the car Sir Humphrey tut-tutted irritably. Were they never to be left in peace?
"I imagine it's the inspector," said Amberley. "He doesn't love me, but he knows better than to omit to notify me of the arrest."
It was not the inspector. It was Mr. Anthony Corkran followed by Sergeant Gubbins.
"Oh!" said Amberley. "Now what?"
Anthony was looking rather queer. "My God!" he said.