"You do sometimes," agreed the sergeant, heavily sarcastic. "I can see a couple now. Young Thomas and Mr. Fairleigh they are. You wait, sir, and you'll see them too."
"An ordinary, respectable personage," mused Mr. Amberley. "Yet he wasn't pleased to see us here. Where does that lane lead to, Gubbins?"
"Fawcett's farm," said the sergeant shortly. "Nothing else?"
"It stops there."
"Ah!" said Mr. Amberley. "Do you think our friend Collins can really have business at Fawcett's farm?"
The sergeant was interested. "Collins? Was it him, sir?"
"It was, Sergeant. He's been calling at Ivy Cottage."
"That's funny," said the sergeant. "What would he want there? Gone off to Fawcett's, has he? Then he'll cut across the fields. There's a right-of-way. Now I come to think of it, we don't know much about these Browns. The young fellow's in the Blue Dragon most nights. Drinks himself silly, that's what he does. But what does he want with a valet?"
"I wonder," said Mr. Amberley.
"Yes, sir, I've no doubt you do, and if I was sure you didn't do more than wonder… What might you have been meaning when you said what you did just now, about it looking as though you weren't so far out?"