Leaving one of the constables to stand guard over Collins' body, the sergeant requested Mr. Amberley to drive on to the manor. Mr. Amberley nodded and set his foot on the self-starter.
The manor was in darkness, but after they had rung the bell they had not long to wait before a light appeared in the fan-shaped glass over the front door.
"H'm!" said the sergeant. "Not hard to wake, are they, sir?"
The door was opened by the butler, who had a pair of trousers and a dressing gown pulled on over his pyjamas. He did not appear to be very sleepy. On the contrary he looked rather alert and showed no surprise at perceiving a policeman. His shy brown eyes stole from the sergeant's face to Amberley's. He stood back, allowing them to enter.
"Were you expecting us?" said the sergeant sharply.
Baker shut the door. "Oh no, Sergeant! That is, I knew of course that Mr. Fountain had rung you up. Do you wish to see Mr. Fountain?"
The sergeant said he did and followed the butler into the library. When the man had withdrawn, he turned to Amberley and said: "What do you make of that chap, sir?"
"I'll tell you one day," replied Amberley.
"Well, I'd like a little talk with him," said the sergeant darkly.
"So should I," agreed Amberley.
Fountain soon came downstairs. He was surprised to see Amberley and asked quickly what had happened.
The sergeant told him. Fountain said blankly: "Shot? Collins?" His gaze shifted from the sergeant to Amberley.
"I don't understand. Who could have shot him? Where was he?"
"It might," said the sergeant judicially, "have been poachers. Or it might not. That'll be investigated. Meanwhile, sir, if you've no objection I should like to use your telephone."
"Yes, of course. I'll show you." Fountain led him out into the hall and left him talking to the constable on duty at the police station. He went back into the library and stared in a bewildered way at Amberley. "I can't make it out!" he said. "It seems fantastic! First my butler, now my valet. Amberley, I don't like it!"
"No. I don't suppose Dawson or Collins liked it either," said Amberley.
Fountain began to walk about the room. "Who found him? Where was he?"
When he heard that Collins had been shot not a mile from the manor he gave a gasp. "Good God! Do you think it was poachers, then?"
Mr. Amberley declined to give an opinion.
A fresh aspect of the case seemed to strike Fountain.
"What made you go to look for him? Don't tell me you were expecting this to happen."
"Oh no," said Amberley. "We were on our way to speak to you, that's all."
Fountain shook his head. "I can't get over it. It's a ghastly business. My God, it makes one wonder who next?"
The sergeant came back into the room and asked Mr. Fountain to be good enough to answer a few questions. Fountain was quite ready to answer anything he could, but had little information to give. The valet had been in his room at half-past seven when he went up to dress for dinner. He had not seen him since then, nor thought about him until, on going up to bed shortly before midnight, he had found nothing prepared for him. He had rung the bell; Baker had answered it and had said that Collins had not been in the servants' hall at suppertime.. He had gone to look in his room and found it empty.
Fountain admitted that he had felt suspicious. Ordinarily he would have merely supposed that the man had taken French leave and slightly overstepped the mark, but certain circumstances made him think there was more to it than that. He thought it significant that the valet's disappearance occurred on the very day he had received a month's notice.
Mr. Amberley, who had picked up the current number of Punch from the table and was idly perusing it, raised his eyes at that.
"You had given him notice?"
"Yes, I had. This morning. All things considered, I thought it best. The man's been presuming on his position. And then there was that business about young Brown. The more I thought over what you said.
Amberley, the fishier the thing looked to me. Dawsoü, too. Once you start suspecting a man you don't know where to stop. And if you get into that frame of mind the only thing to do is to sack the servant."
"But Collins, if I remember rightly, had a sound alibi on the night of Dawson's murder."
"Yes, so I thought. Never bothered my head much till Brown fell in the river. Collins was pressing a suit for me at the time and I saw him. But it's extraordinary how you can pick holes in an alibi. I've been trying to calculate the lime it would have taken him to reach the Fittingly Road, supposing he took the motor bicycle. I shouldn't have said he could have done it, but I've got just a faint doubt. That's a beastly state of affairs between master and servant, you know. I gave him notice today. When he was missing tonight it flashed across my mind that he might have thought that I suspected him, got the wind up and bolted. The more I considered it the more certain I felt. When he hadn't come in by three o'clock I rang up the police station. But I never dreamed that anything like this had happened."
"No, sir, I don't suppose you did," said the sergeant. "And you didn't hear him go out or see anyone else go out?"
"No, but I might not have, you know. I was in this room most of the evening, writing letters. I should have heard the front door open, but Collins wouldn't have left by that door."
"Quite, sir. If it's convenient to you I should like to have a word with that butler of yours."
"Certainly." Fountain walked to the fireplace and pressed the bell.
The door opened almost immediately to admit not Baker, but Corkran, looking tousled and sleepy. He blinked at the assembled company and shut his eyes tightly for a moment. Then he opened them again and shook his head. "I thought it was a mirage," he said. "But I see it really is you, Sergeant. All is discovered, what? I'll go quietly, "strewth, I will!"
The sergeant grinned, but Fountain said sharply: "It isn't a joking matter. Collins has been shot."
Corkran gaped at him. Then he looked at Amberley and requested him to explain.
It was Fountain who answered him. Anthony listened in amazement and at the end said that he took a very poor view of it. "I didn't like the man," he said. "In fact, I hadn't any time for him at all. But this is a bit too thick. I don't mind a spot of crime just to liven things up, but I bar homicidal maniacs. Three deaths all on top of each other! No, really, that's coming it too strong!"
Fountain swung round towards Amberley. "Good God, do you think that's it?" he exclaimed. "Could it really be what Tony suggests? These utterly inexplicable murders - what do you think?"
"Some people," said Mr. Amberley carefully, "consider that all murderers are maniacs."
"You rang for me, sir?"
The sergeant looked round. "I want to ask you a few questions," he said. "You come inside and shut the door."
The butler obeyed. "Yes, Sergeant?"
Out came the notebook. "What time was it when you saw Collins last?" asked the sergeant.
The butler answered promptly: "At twenty minutes past seven."
"Oh! What makes you so sure?"
"Collins himself drew attention to the time, Sergeant, and said he must go up to lay Mr. Fountain's dress clothes out."
From the other end of the room Amberley spoke. "You didn't see him leave the house?"
"I did not, sir. He must have gone during dinner while I was engaged in waiting."
"Why?" said the sergeant at once.
The butler's mouth twitched nervously. He said after an infinitesimal pause: "I think I should have seen him go had I been in the servants' quarters."
"You would, eh? Were you friendly with him?"
"I have not been in Mr. Fountain's employment for long, Sergeant. I have endeavoured to be on good terms with the rest of the staff."
The sergeant surveyed him closely. "Where were you before you came down here?"
A shade of discomfort crossed the butler's features. He replied, not quite so readily: "I was temporarily out of service, Sergeant."
"Whys'
"I was suffering from ill health."
"Address?"
"My — my home address is in Tooting," said the man reluctantly. "In Blackadder Road."
"Previous employer?"
"My late master has gone to America."
"He has, has he? Name?"
"Fanshawe," said Baker still more unwillingly.
"Address when in England?"
"He has no address in England, Sergeant."
The sergeant looked up. "Look here, my man, he had an address while you were in his service, hadn't he? What was it?"
Mr. Amberley's quiet voice interposed. "You were with Mr. Geoffrey Fanshawe, were you?"
The butler glanced towards him. "Yes, sir."
"Eaton Square, in fact?"
The butler swallowed. "Yes, sir."
"Then why make a mystery of it? No. 547, Sergeant."
"Do you know the gentleman, sir?"
"Slightly. He's a member of my club."
"Is it true that he's gone abroad?"
"I believe so. I could find out."
The sergeant addressed Fountain. "You had a reference, sir, I take it?"
"Yes, of course. But Baker gave it to me. I wasn't able to write to Mr. Fanshawe myself because he had gone - or was said to have gone - to New York. The chit was written on club notepaper."
"Trace him through the club," said the sergeant, writing laboriously in his notebook. "Or you will, sir?"
"Yes, I will," Amberley said. "I should like to know one thing, though." His hard eyes rested on Baker's face. "You say you would have heard Collins leave the house had you not been in the dining room at the time. Did you see or hear anyone else leave the house during the course of the evening?"
The butler said slowly: "Two of the maids were out, sir. None of the rest of the staff."
"You are sure of that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Were you in the servants' hall?"
"No, sir. I was in my pantry most of the evening. Before that I was in the dining room clearing things away."
"So that you would have known had anyone left the house by the front door?"
"No one opened the front door this evening, sir," said Baker, meeting his gaze squarely.
Mr. Amberley returned to the study of Punch. He appeared to take no further interest in the sergeant's examination of Baker, but as the butler was about to leave the room ten minutes later, he raised his eyes for a moment and said: "Did it appear to you, when you looked in Collins' room, that he had taken anything away, as though he were leaving for good?"
"No, sir," replied Baker. "Mr. Fountain told me to look particularly. I took the liberty of glancing in the cupboard and the chest of drawers. So far as I could judge nothing had been taken away."
"And you looked pretty thoroughly?"
Yes, sir. There was nothing of a suspicious nature to be seen."
"Thank you," said Amberley.
The sergeant shut his notebook. "No more questions, sir?"
"No, thanks, Sergeant," said Amberley tranquilly.
"Then I'll be getting back to the station, sir. Sorry to have knocked you up, Mr. Fountain. I expect the inspector will want to see you tomorrow."
Fountain nodded somewhat gloomily. "Yes, I expect he will," he agreed. "I shall be in all the morning."
"Well, if that's all," said Anthony, "I'm going back to bed. And I'd like to take a gun with me. I should feel happier."
"I'm sure I'm not surprised, sir," said the sergeant cordially.
"You come with me, Sergeant," invited Anthony. "What we both need is a drink."
Fountain was roused to his duties as host. "Of, course. What am I thinking about? You'll have a drink too, won't you, Amberley?"
Amberley declined it. The sergeant, eyeing him somewhat aggrievedly, murmured something about regulations, but allowed Mr. Corkran to persuade him. When he came back he was wiping his moustache and seemed to be on the best of terms with Anthony. As he drove away from the manor he informed Mr. Amberley that he didn't know when he had taken such a fancy to a young gentleman. "And what's more, sir," he said confidentially, "though I don't say he's right, there might be something in that idea of his about a homicidal maniac. After all, sir three murders, without any rhyme or reason to them. What do you think?"
"I think you and Mr. Corkran were made for one another," said Amberley. "The murders were not all committed by the same man. Dawson was killed by Collins."
"Eh?" The sergeant was startled. "But you never seemed to make much of Collins, Mr. Amberley! I've suspected him all along, but you…'
"The trouble is, Sergeant, that you suspected him of the wrong crime."
"Oh!" said the sergeant, rather at sea. "I suppose you mean something, sir, but I'm blessed if I know what. Did you make anything of what we heard up there?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the manor.
"There were one or two points," replied Ambericy.
"That's what I thought, sir. I don't mind telling you I got my eye on that butler. I'd like to find out a bit about him. He'll bear watching. Crops up out of nowhere, so to speak, and knows more than what you'd expect. Not at all surprised to see us, he wasn't. Might have been expecting us. Well, I got a feeling about him, and when I get a feeling I'm not often wrong. That's your man, Mr. Amberley, you mark my words!"
Amberley glanced enigmatically towards him. "You've a marvellous intuition, Gubbins."
"Well, that's as may be, sir. But you wait and you'll see I'm right."
"I think, Sergeant," said Mr. Amberley, swinging round a sharp bend, "that you are nearer the truth than you know."