The man's hands came away from his face abruptly.
"Oh, no! Surely not! She had a home. Don't they take people home?"
"We can't take the body of an unknown woman to an uninhabited bungalow."
"It isn't a bungalow," the man automatically corrected. "No. No, I suppose not. But it seems dreadful — the mortuary. Oh, God in heaven above!" he burst out, "why did this have to happen!"
"Davis," the sergeant said to the constable, "you go back with the others and report. I'm going over to — what is it? — Briars? with Mr. Tisdall."
The two ambulance men crunched their heavy way over the pebbles, followed by Potticary and Bill. The noise of their progress had become distant before the sergeant spoke again.
"I suppose it didn't occur to you to go swimming with your hostess?"
A spasm of something like embarrassment ran across Tisdall's face. He hesitated.
"No. I not much in my line, I'm afraid: swimming before breakfast. I–I've always been a rabbit at games and things like that."
The sergeant nodded, noncommittal. "When did she leave for a swim?"