Amberley left his car outside the little white gate and went up the path to the front door. The window of the living room was open, and through it he heard Mark Brown's voice say petulantly: "You made a bloody mess of the whole thing. You ought to have let me do it. I bet I wouldn't have let anyone steal a march on me. You let him get the thing and then you send for him to come up here. The hell of a lot of use that is! Supposing anyone had seen him?"
Amberley knocked loudly on the door, and the voice ceased abruptly. After a moment the door was opened by Mark Brown, and the bull-terrier bounded out apparently delighted to welcome the guest.
Amberley said easily: "Good afternoon. I came to return a piece of lost property to your sister."
Mark recognised him and flushed. "Oh, it's you, is it? Come in, won't you? I say - I'm afraid I was a bit screwed the other day. Awfully decent of you to have brought me home."
Amberley brushed that aside. When he liked he could be very pleasant, and apparently he liked now. He had Mark at his ease in two minutes, and Mark, losing some of his suspicion, invited him to come in to see his sister.
He came in, escorted by the bull-terrier, and preceded Mark into the little sitting room, where Shirley Brown was standing behind the table. She gave no sign of being pleased to see him, but watched him intently under her frowning brows.
Mr. Amberley was not in the least dismayed. "How do you do?" he said. "Did you get home all right the other evening?"
"If I hadn't I should hardly be here now," she replied.
"Oh, shut up, Shirley!" interposed her brother, pulling a chair forward. "Won't you sit down, Mr. - Amberley, isn't it? Didn't you say you had something belonging to my sister?"
A startled look leaped into her eyes. She said quickly: "Something of mine?"