It was past five when they finished the round, and the light had already grown very bad. They found the clubhouse rather empty, as was usual on a weekday, and they had no difficulty in securing a corner to themselves. Over the first half-pint of beer, Anthony would discuss nothing but his tendency to pull, embellished by illustrative anecdotes of fatal pulls on half the golf courses of England. But when he had taken Amberley from Sandwich by way of Wentworth and Hoylake to St Andrews he at last ran dry.
Amberley allowed him to brood over the afternoon's round for a few minutes, while he sent for more beer. When this came Anthony roused himself from his absorption and of his own accord abandoned the subject of golf.
"This 'ere murder," he said. "What about it?"
"Not enough. That's the trouble. What is Brother Basil afraid of?"
"Ah, you noticed it, did you? Blessed if I know. Jolly sort of atmosphere about the place, isn't there? The sooner I get Joan out of it the better."
"When is the wedding, by the way?"
"Next month. As far as I can make out, I look like being a fixture there till then, or practically. I was supposed to be pushing off after these fancy-dress revels - I say, why do women get all unhinged when it comes to fancy dress? Even Joan's definitely insane on the subject. I ask you, Amberley, do I look the sort of silly ass who'd do well as Faust?" Frank shook his head. "Of course I don't. A dance is all right, but why drag in the fancy dress? However, that wasn't what I was going to say. Being a fixture. Well, I always meant to push off on Thursday, but apart from Joan wanting me to stay a bit longer, Brother Basil's all for it."
"Pleasure of your company, or funk?"
"Funk," said Corkran positively. "The man's all chewed up with it, and God knows why. All I know is that he doesn't want to be left alone at the manor. It's since the murder that he's got the jumps to this extent."
"Do you know anything about him?"