"I'll tell you," said Corkran, drawing his chair closer.
The conversation ceased from that moment to have any bearing on the murder, but became frankly an interchange of school reminiscences. It lasted for an hour and might have lasted for three had not Corkran chanced to catch sight of the clock. He then fled, having promised to fetch his betrothed from a tea party at least half an hour earlier.
Amberley followed in a more leisurely fashion and drove his Bentley into Upper Nettlefold to buy tobacco on his way home. When he came out of the shop he found that his car was not unattended. A dark, wildlooking boy in grey flannel trousers, a polo sweater and a tweed coat was leaning against it, solemnly staring at the switches on the dashboard. He wore no hat, and a lock of black hair strayed artlessly across his forehead.
Amberley paused outside the shop and began slowly to fill a pipe, his eyes resting thoughtfully on the dark young man.
The youth continued to lean heavily.
"Anything I can do for you?" Amberley inquired.
The dishevelled head was turned. "Nobody," said the youth simply, "need do any - anything for me."
"That's good. Mind if I remove the car?"
The youth disregarded this. "D'you know what I've been doing?"
"Yes," said Amberley frankly.