Mr. Amberley, with a sloth his cousin found disgusting, spent most of the next morning in a somnolent state in the garden. A burst of hot sunshine induced Felicity, always optimistic, to put up the hammock. Mr. Amberley observed this, and approved. Felicity found him stretched in it an hour after breakfast, tried to turn him out, failed, and went off very scornfully to play hard-court tennis.
But Mr. Amberley was not destined to be left for long in peace. Shortly after twelve o'clock his aunt came out and poked him with her sunshade. He opened his eyes, surveyed her in silent indignation, and closed them again.
"Dear Frank — so sylvan. But you must wake up. The most tiresome thing."
Without opening his eyes Mr. Amberley murmured a sentence he knew by heart. "Bridges haven't sent the fish, and unless I will be an angel and run into Upper Nettlefold for it there won't be any lunch."
"No, nothing like that. At least, I trust not. That man who annoys your uncle."
"Which one?" inquired Mr. Amberley.
"Colonel Watson. In the drawing room. Must I invite him to lunch?"
Mr. Amberley was at last roused. He sat up and swung his long legs out of the hammock. "I forgive you, Aunt Marion," he said. "It was very nice of you to come and warn me. I shall take my book into the woodshed. On no account ask him to lunch."
Lady Matthews smiled. "I do sympathise, my dear. Of course I do. But not a warning. He has been talking to your uncle for half an hour. The gold standard, you know. So incomprehensible and unsuitable. He came on business. Something very legal, but he wouldn't go. If he had only told Humphrey that he wanted to see you! We have only just discovered it. Not that he said so. It was sheer intuition on my part. Do come, my dear. Be very rude, and then he will not want to stay to lunch."
"All right, I will be. Very rude," said Mr. Amberley, and descended from the hammock.
"So sweet of you, Frank, but perhaps better not," said his aunt dubiously.
The chief constable's manner when Mr. Amberley lounged in through the long window in the drawing room was an admirable mixture of casual surprise and friendly gratification. "Ah, hullo, Amberley!" he said, getting up and shaking hands. "So you are still here! This is a pleasant surprise. How are you?"
"Sunk in apathy," said Mr. Amberley. "Just about half awake. Certainly not more."
This seemed to provide the colonel with the opening he wanted. He laughed and said: "Sunk in apathy! Surely that can't mean bored?"
"Not yet," said Mr. Amberley.
His uncle gave a sudden snort of laughter which he managed to turn into a cough.
"You want something to occupy your mind," said the colonel in a jocular way. "Perhaps you'd like to try your hand at our little murder case!"
Mr. Amberley saw fit to treat this as a joke. Colonel Watson abandoned the facetious vein. "Seriously, my dear fellow, I should be delighted if you cared to give us a hand with it. It's a most interesting problem. Quite in your line."
"Very kind of you, sir, but you don't want an amateur dabbling in these professional matters."
The colonel realised that he did not like Mr. Amberley. Looking back, he could not remember that he ever had liked him. Those hard eyes had a way of staring contemptuously through one, and that ironic smile was the most irritating thing he had ever seen. The fact was the fellow was too damned conceited. Obviously he wasn't going to beg, as a favour, to be allowed to have a hand in the solving of this worrying murder. The colonel dallied for a moment with the idea of taking him at his word and leaving him out of the thing altogether. It would afford him distinct gratification just to turn the conversation on to quite trivial matters, chat for a little and then go, leaving this insufferable young man to wish he had not been so offhand.
The idea was very tempting, but the colonel put it aside. He was rather dismally aware that he was not a particularly clever man, but he hoped that he was clever enough not to cut off his nose just to spite his face. It was all very well for the inspector to say that they would clear the whole mystery up as soon as certain data came to hand, but Colonel Watson had no great opinion of the inspector's ability to probe any mystery. A good routineman, yes, and a capable man, but it was no use blinking facts; this sort of thing was not in his line. Of course he didn't want to call in Scotland Yard. The colonel could quite sympathise with him over that; he didn't want to call in Scotland Yard himself. He hated those highly efficient persons who came from the Yard, and complained that they should have been called in sooner, before the trail was cold; and took the whole matter out of one's hands. Really, when one considered it, they were worse than Frank Amberley. He was much ruder than they were, because they took the trouble to disguise their scorn of the previous conduct of the case, and he never had any hesitation in condemning what he chose to think blamable. But at least he could not relegate them all to the status of lower schoolboys, and to do him justice he hadn't, over that Bilton affair, wanted to take all the credit of success to himself.
He ought not to consult a layman. It was irregular, and he did not like irregularity. He ought to have swallowed his pride and called in the Yard at once. He had allowed himself to be overruled by the inspector, and now he dreaded having to apply to the Yard, for they would have considerable justification for complaining of a cold trail. There would be a great deal of unpleasantness about it. On the whole it would be much better to let young Amberley — well, he wasn't so very young, perhaps. Must be about thirty-five, he supposed. Still, too young to sneer at his elders. Never mind about that; no denying the fellow was remarkably astute. Yes, better to let young Amberley see what he could do. He was naturally pretty well known at the Yard, too, so it wasn't like calling in a stranger. If the Yard got to hear about it they wouldn't object. And really the way he had handled that Bilton case was masterly.
The inspector, of course, would be furious. He had never got over that young devil sending him off twenty miles on a wild-goose chase and saying afterwards by way of explanation that he had put him on to a false trail because be couldn't do any harm there.
A smile flitted across the colonel's worried countenance. He could still see the inspector's face; he wouldn't have missed that incident for worlds. Serve the inspector right! He was a self-important ass. And if he didn't like Amberley being let into it he could damned well lump it. The colonel had a shrewd suspicion that the tiresome young man was nosing about a bit for his own amusement. Well, if he wanted to dabble in detection he had better do it on behalf of the police.
He looked up and was annoyed to find that Mr. Amberley, still leaning against the window frame, was watching him with that ironical smile he so much disliked. Damn the fellow! Do him good to have a setback once in a while.
"Look here, Amberley!" he said abruptly, "I wish you would give me a hand over this case."
"I know you do," replied Mr. Amberley, still smiling. "Frank, behave yourself," said his uncle.
"Oh, I know his little way, Matthews!" said the colonel.
"I've worked with him before. Now, own up, Amberley, you want to have a finger in this pie!"
"All right," said Frank. "But it's in."
"I thought as much. Now you know we can't have outsiders interfering, my dear fellow. No need for me to tell you that."
"Not a bit. I won't interfere."
"No, no, you misunderstand me! That wasn't what I meant."
"I know exactly what you meant, Colonel. You want me to act for the police. Very, very irregular."
"Possibly! Possibly! But you have worked with us before, after all. This case ought to interest you. It's one of the most incomprehensible I have ever struck."
"Ah!" said Mr. Amberley. He reached out his hand towards an open box of cigarettes and took one, and stood tapping it on his thumbnail. "I don't think I want to work with the police," he said.
From the other end of the room Sir Humphrey spoke. "Then pray don't, Frank. I very much dislike this bringing of unsavoury cases into one's home. I see enough in my official capacity without…'
"Quite, Uncle," Mr. Amberley said abstractedly. He put the cigarette between his lips and felt in his pocket for matches.
"Do you mean you take no interest in the case?" asked Colonel Watson, at a loss.
Amberley struck a match and watched the flame creep up the stick. At the last moment he lit the cigarette and flicked the match into the empty fireplace. "I'm taking a lot of interest in it," he said. "And I don't want to waste my time pointing out obvious facts to Inspector Fraser."
"My dear sir, I can assure you…'
"On the other hand," continued Amberley thoughtfully, "if I don't do something about it he's almost certain to queer the whole pitch."
The colonel pricked up his ears. "That sounds as though you're on the track of something," he said. "Does it?"
"Come, come, Amberley, you must be open with me!"
"When I've got something definite to tell you, you shall have it," said Amberley. "At the moment I haven't. Meanwhile I suppose I'd better know what line the police are taking."
"It's hard to know which line to take," said the colonel, frowning worriedly. "There is no data, you see. Nothing to go on."
Up went Mr. Amberley's black brows, but he said nothing.
"We have a man shot on a deserted road. No sign of struggle. No apparent motive, unless it be robbery. The locality seems to rule out the bandit theory, though one can't, of course, entirely set that aside."
"Do you think you could try?" asked Amberley wearily. "I've no objection to Fraser looking about for a likely bandit; it ought to occupy his time very nicely. But I'm getting a little tired of hearing that singularly foolish theory. Dawson was not murdered by road-bandits."
"That is my own belief," said the colonel, keeping his end up. "The locality alone…'
"Yes, I've grasped that, Colonel. What you don't appear to have grasped is the considerable amount of data at your disposal."
"I think I have all the facts," said the colonel stiffly.
"I know you have," said Mr. Amberley. "I gave 'em to you in my original statement. They were refreshingly significant."
"As for instance - ?"
Mr. Amberley sat down on the edge of the table in the window. "I'll recapitulate, Colonel. By the way, it was a premeditated murder, you know."
The colonel jumped.
"I know nothing of the sort, I can assure you. I admit the possibility, but I should require very conclusive proof before I made such a positive statement."
Just so," said Mr. Amberley. "You would be very wise. And now I'll give you the proof. You have the corpse of a murdered man discovered in a car on a lonely road. First significant fact."
"The lonely road? I understand that you did not think that significant."
"On the contrary, highly significant. You, Colonel, treat it as a merely negative link in the chain. The second significant fact is the position of the car."
The colonel repeated rather blankly: "Of the car?… Well?"
"Certainly of the car. It was drawn up at the side of the road, with the engine switched off and only the side lamps burning. Why?"
The colonel made an airy gesture. "There might be several reasons. If the man was held up…'
"He would not have drawn right into the side. The car was definitely parked."
"Well, then, say he had engine trouble."
"Which he thought to overcome by an act of faith, presumably."
"I don't follow you."
"He made no attempt to get out of the car. It was a damp night, the road was muddy. The man's shoes were perfectly dry."
"True." The colonel nodded and fingered his moustache. "Then we're left - in default of other evidence - with the theory that he went to meet someone. But surely an odd place and an odd hour to choose?"
"It depends which way you look at it," said Amberley. "If he had any reason to wish to keep that meeting secret, not such an odd place or hour."
"Yes. Yes, there is something in that," admitted the colonel. "But we must not lose sight of the fact that the man was in no sense a suspicious character. He had been at the manor for many years, he was well known in the district; a decent, quiet servant, with no entanglements, not even a flirtation to his record. And this furtive assignation, you know, undoubtedly points to a woman in the case."
"I should not say "undoubtedly"," Mr. Amberley said. "Perhaps not. No, perhaps not. But go on, my dear fellow. Your third fact?"
"My third fact — also significant - is that Dawson was taken quite unawares and was shot before he knew that he was in any danger."
"Yes, I can see your reasoning. You are going on his position at the time of the murder. You assume that the person or persons whom he had gone to meet were lying in wait for him?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't. If the person he was going to meet had any reason for wishing him dead it is unlikely that Dawson would not have known it. In which case he would have been on his guard. Which he was not. Taking into consideration the hour, the place and the manner of the murder, I suggest that someone who had a very good reason for not wishing the assignation to take place discovered that it had been made and followed Dawson to the spot, and there shot him."
"How?" demanded the colonel. "You forget the man was in a car. He must have heard another car had there been one."
"I should imagine that he not only heard it, but also saw it," said Amberley. "Though I incline to the belief that the murderer was on a motor bicycle."
"Oh, you do, do you? And why?"
"Merely because if you are right in assuming that he lay in wait for Dawson a motor bicycle could have been hidden in the hedge, or possibly run into the field behind. There was a gate. But you may have your car if you like. The main point is that the murderer shot Dawson either from a place of concealment (which probably means that the actual place of meeting was known to him), or from some vehicle driven towards Dawson's car."
The colonel thought it over. "Yes. Quite possible, but not conclusive, Amberley. Not conclusive, you know. Say that I concede it for the purposes of discussion. With whom was the assignation made?"
"I suggest, Colonel, that you depute my friend Fraser to find that out. He won't succeed, of course, but it will keep him occupied for a bit."
"Really, really, Amberley!" expostulated the colonel half-heartedly. "If you haven't any theories to fit that, then tell me what you suppose the motive to be that prompted the murderer to stop the meeting at all costs? Or can't you advance an opinion on that either?"
"Oh, I can tell you that," replied Amberley. The motive was robbery, of course."
"Robbery? My dear fellow, what are you talking about? A moment ago you refused to listen to that theory!"
"Oh, no, I didn't," said Amberley calmly. "I only begged you to rid your mind of the bandit notion. I see you haven't succeeded. I wish you'd try. It's beginning to bore me."
The colonel bit back something he wanted very much to say. "Perhaps you will consider this little point: If, as you assert, the murder was deliberately planned, I take it we may assume that the assassin knew Dawson and was aware, in point of fact, of his station in life and of his probable resources? Very well. Will you have the goodness to inform me what the unknown assassin can have supposed Dawson to be carrying that was of sufficient value to induce him to commit a murder?"
Amberley regarded him in some amusement. "What a lot you think I know!" he remarked. "When you have discovered the answer to that riddle you will in all probability have discovered your murderer. I advise you to consider carefully two points. One, the fact that the dead man's pockets had been rifled, that there was neither notecase nor pocketbook found on him, but that in one trouser pocket was loose silver amounting to fifteen shillings, and a gold watch and chain in his waistcoat. Two, that during the past couple of years Dawson had been receiving money over and above the salary Fountain paid him. Which reminds me that I should like to know a little more about those various accounts of his."
"The inspector is making inquiries. It goes without saying that we fastened on to that at once. I'm to understand that in your opinion it was not money that the murderer wanted?"
"No, it was not money, Colonel."
The colonel rose reluctantly. "Well, it's all very interesting, but there isn't much to go on," he complained. "I seem to be just where I was. Haven't you any practical suggestion to make?"
"Not at present," said Mr. Amberley. "There is one thing I want investigated - but I think I'll do it myself. I'll let you know the result."
"Well, I shall rely on hearing from you as soon as possible," said the colonel. "In the meantime you must understand that we shall pursue investigations as we think best."
"Do," said Mr. Amberley cordially. "Carry on as you're doing now; you won't do any harm."
The colonel shook hands with Sir Humphrey and said over his shoulder with some hauteur: "We hope to do considerable good."
"Well, that's possible too," said Mr. Amberley. He held out his hand. "Goodbye. And I shouldn't worry, Colonel. Quite simple really, you know."
Sir Humphrey saw his guest off the premises and returned to the drawing room. "Frank, it is apparent to anyone who knows you that you are in possession of facts which you did not see fit to divulge to our friend Watson," he said severely.
"Lots of'em," agreed Frank.
"Do you know," said Sir Humphrey, "that it is the duty of every honest citizen…'
Amberley held up his hand. "I do, sir. But I've been asked to solve this little problem."
"I should not have thought," said his uncle, "that putting the police in full possession of all the facts - and, I may add, of whatever suspicions you may be nourishing - was incompatible with solving the mystery."
"No?" said Frank. "Well, perhaps you haven't worked with Messrs Watson, Fraser and Company. I think you'd better leave it to me, Uncle."
"I have every intention of so doing," replied Sir Humphrey with dignity. "I have not the slightest desire to meddle in these very distasteful affairs."