"I see it's no use trying to conceal anything from you, Sergeant," said Mr. Amberley, shaking his head.
"Well, I hope I've got my share of brains, sir," replied the sergeant, slightly mollified. "I don't say I set out to be one of these people who think they know everything and, consequent, talk so clever there's no understanding what they're driving at half the time - if anything, which some people might doubt."
Mr. Amberley grinned. "Such as?"
"Just someone I happened to have in my mind," said the sergeant carelessly.
"Oh, I see. I thought you were talking about me for a moment."
The sergeant strove with himself. "Now look here, sir!" he said. "I can't stand in the road bandying words with you all day while you have your little bit of fun with me. I've got my work to do. I was going to mention to you that I don't like the look of that Collins, and never have, but what's the good? It wouldn't interest you."
"Not in the least," said Mr. Amberley frankly, "but it would interest me very much to know why he goes calling at Ivy Cottage."
"Well, that's something we can find out," said the sergeant, his spirits rising. "I don't say that I see what it's got to do with the crime, but if you want to know there'd be more sense in me investigating it than joining a lot of goggling fools in turning over dead leaves for a cartridge case. Which is what the inspector set some of the men on to do. And they haven't found it yet, nor they aren't likely to, though Constable Parkins found a kettle with a hole in it and the half of an old boot in the ditch."
"Did they find any trace of a bicycle having been pushed into the field behind the hedge?" Anthony inquired.
"No, sir, not so far as I know."