She bit her lip, shooting one of her sudden fiery glances at him. "What was the use? You'd only think I'd done it."
"A little cold-blooded, aren't you?" he suggested.
"You can think what you like," she told him. "lt makes difference to me."
"You're mistaken. What I think is likely to make a considerable difference to you. Come here a moment." He grasped her arm above the elbow and drew her towards the smaller car. "Don't stand in the light," he said irritably and once more bent to inspect the quiet form inside. "Did you search his pockets?"
She shuddered. "No."
"Someone did." He reached his hand in at the window and carefully slid it between the dead man's coat and body. "No notecase, no pocketbook." He withdrew his hand and again let the girl go. "Damn!" he said unemotionally and wiped the blood off his lingers.
The girl said: "I - I feel rather sick."
Mr. Amberley raised one eyebrow. "I'm not surprised," he said politely.
She sat down on the running-board of the car and put her head down on her knees. Mr. Amberley stood wiping his fingers on his handkerchief and frowning at her. Presently she sat up. "I'm all right now. What are you going to do?"
"Inform the police."