"You're wasted in Upper Nettlefold, Sergeant," said Amberley.
"Well, sir, p'r'aps I wouldn't mind a change," replied the sergeant visibly gratified.
"Try the stage," recommended Amberley. He left the sergeant to think this out and continued: "Fountain now began to give himself away. Instead of saying as little as possible and leaving Fraser to make a muddle of the case, he had to try and improve it. No sooner had he got rid of Collins than he proceeded to knock the bottom out of the valet's alibi for the night of Dawson's murder. That was overdoing things. Up till that moment he had refused to believe that Collins could have done anything he shouldn't; similarly he had refused to sack the man in spite of his evident dislike of him. But when Collins was safely out of the way we were told that he had been sacked that very morning. Let me remind you, Sergeant, that you asked me when we left the manor what I made of it all. I told you that there were one or two significant points. Those were the points."
The sergeant, who was becoming reckless, said," I wondered whether you'd seen them too, Mr. Amberley sir."
"Fortunately," said Amberley dryly, "I had. It appeared to me that Fountain was getting into a tight corner and knew it. It was on the day after Collins' murder - this morning, in fact — that I took the precaution of paying a visit to Littlehaven."
"I was told you were investigating the murder," remarked Lady Matthews.
"Officially I was. I had no desire to let Fountain get wind of my real whereabouts."
"But, Frank, what made you go to Littlehaven?" asked Felicity.
"That motorboat," answered Amberley. "I hadn't forgotten the existence of a boat capable of crossing the Channel. I'm not going to pretend that I foresaw the use it would be put to. I didn't. What I did suspect was that Fountain, realising in what danger he stood, would have arranged a getaway in case things started to go wrong. The motorboat seemed the obvious way of escape. When I got to Littlehaven I made inquiries and discovered that she had been taken from Morton's Yard and moored to a buoy a little way up the creek, past Fountain's bungalow. She had been overhauled, and when I rowed out to take a look at her I found her all ready for sea. It looked as though my surmise was right, so I employed our friend the longshoreman to watch her and notify me by telephone the moment anyone took her out. This would have enabled the police to get on to the French ports and stop Fountain there. I still think that Fountain's original reason for having the motorboat in readiness was to provide himself with a way of escape. Once Collins was dead he hadn't the smallest desire to hurt Shirley. Without the will she could do nothing. Not one of his murders did he want to commit. I can quite believe that he spoke the truth when he said he had lived through hell. If he had never inherited his uncle's estate he would have remained what I think he was at heart - a cheery, kindly natured chap who only wanted a comfortable life and enough money to indulge his highly commendable tastes. The trouble was that he had regarded himself as Jasper Fountain's heir for so many years that when he found that he had been disinherited it was unthinkable for him to relinquish everything but ten thousand pounds. He had practically no private means, but had always received a large allowance from his uncle. He struck me as cunning when hard-pressed, but by no means a profound thinker. I am certain that he never visualised the possible consequences of his initial, and comparatively mild, crime. The two servants could be kept quiet by a little money, and although it wasn't by any means the sporting thing to do, no doubt he argued that Shirley and Mark couldn't miss what they had never known. He had been brought up to regard the manor as his, and I expect he felt that he was more or less justified in suppressing the later will. Once he had taken the one false step everything else was, as he said, forced on him. And I believe that he hated it and would have chucked up the sponge if he could have done so without landing himself in gaol." He paused. His audience sat silently waiting for him to go on. "But Fountain's mental processes, though interesting, are rather off the point. I said that once Collins was dead nothing was meditated against Shirley. That, I am convinced, is true. But fate in the person of my misguided cousin, dealt Fountain a blow. He learned from her of the adventures his book,
Curiosities of Literature, had been through. She told him how interested I was in that book and how there was nothing in it, and although she had not remembered to inform me that Shirley had had it in her possession long enough to find the half of the will hidden in it, she had no difficulty in remembering it for Fountain's benefit."