It was Tucker who had stopped the first car that passed them. He had not liked to leave Collins with the body and he had told the owner of the car, who was Mr. Jarrold, from Collinghurst, to ring up the police station and deliver a message.
Tucker told his story straightforwardly, but took care not to look at Mr. Amberley. It was plain that he expected censure, for he said several times that the inspector had never told him that Brown was not to be let out of his sight.
"You're a fool," said the sergeant, and rang for Collins to be brought in.
The valet had been fitted out with a suit of clothes only a little too large for him, and given a hot tot. The grey shade had left his face, and his eyes, which the sergeant had thought murderous, were as cold and as expressionless as ever.
He recounted his share in the night's happenings quite composedly. He had been some little way behind Brown, whom he had just been able to see lurching along through the mist. The young gentleman seemed very intoxicated; several times he had stumbled and he had not been able to keep a straight course. So erratic had been his footsteps that Collins had hurried to come up with him, fearing that some car, its driver unable to see clearly in the fog, might run him over. It had been equally hard for him to see clearly, though he had had his torch in his hand. They must have noticed that the fog was particularly thick down there in the hollow where the road ran immediately beside the river. He thought the boy must have wandered off it and stumbled over the edge of the bank. He had seen him disappear and heard him cry out as he fell. There had been a splash, and he had at once run to the spot where he had last seen the young gentleman. He had shouted to him, but there was no answer; not a sound. Knowing in what condition the gentleman was, he had feared that he would not be able to swim to shore. He had thought it his duty to go in after him and he had done so, only stopping to take off his coat and boots. He had dived in and swum about for what seemed hours. He thought the gentleman must have sunk at once; if he struggled at all it could not have been for long, since there was nothing but silence when he, Collins, entered the water. He had almost despaired of bringing him up when he had grasped something in the water and knew it for a hand. He was not a great swimmer, but he had managed to get the body to the bank and to drag it up on to the road again. He had shouted several times for help, as he himself was exhausted and had hardly enough strength to apply artificial respiration. He had done the best he could until Tucker came up; he thought that Tucker would bear him out over that.
The sergeant listened to this tale in sceptical silence. At the end he said: "That's how it happened, is it? And what might you have been doing on the Collinghurst Road at that hour of night?"
The answer astonished him. "I was following the young gentleman," said Collins.
The sergeant, who had been sure of it, was nonplussed. "Oh you were, were you?" he said rather feebly. "And why?"
Collins glanced fleetingly at Amberley. "I have been endeavouring to get into touch with the young gentleman since a very unpleasant little affair took place at the manor three evenings ago. I think Mr. Amberley will know to what I refer."
"Never you mind what Mr. Amberley knows," said the sergeant. "What was this unpleasant affair?"
Collins moistened his lips. "Well, Sergeant, Mr. Brown being under the influence of spirits, came up to the manor and upon my opening the door to him, addressed me in a threatening way which I could not at all account for. He seemed to mistake me for someone else."
"He did, eh? And what made you think that?"
"I could not suppose, Sergeant, that the young gentleman had really any grudge against me."
"You didn't know him at all, did you?"
A slight crease appeared between Amberley's brows.
There had been enough meaning in the sergeant's voice to put Collins on his guard.
"I could hardly say that I knew him, Sergeant," said the valet suavely. "I hope I know my place. But I had met Mr. Brown in Upper Nettlefold one afternoon when he was not quite himself. Upon that occasion he was extremely friendly. Indeed, so very friendly that he attempted to make me a present of his cigarette case. I believe that alcohol does take gentlemen like that sometimes. Mr. Brown seemed to be under the impression upon that occasion that I was a friend of his. Nothing would do but that I should take his cigarette case. Naturally I returned it as soon as possible."
"You sent it back to him?"
"No, Sergeant, I took it to Ivy Cottage myself and gave it to Mr. Brown," said Collins tranquilly.
The sergeant shot an eloquent look at Amberley.
"Mr. Brown," continued Collins, "was quite sober at the time and behaved just as a gentleman should."
"It sounds to me like a funny story," said the sergeant. "But go on! Why did he go up to see you at the manor?"
"I have no idea, Sergeant. It has been troubling me a good deal, if I may say so. The young gentleman attempted to shoot me, as you, sir' - he bowed to Amberley - "will no doubt remember. Mr. Fountain, not wishing to be hard on Mr. Brown, who was not himself, let him go. But he used certain expressions towards me which I was quite at a loss to understand. In fact he threatened to shoot me at the first opportunity."
"Which was why you went dogging his footsteps, I suppose," said the sergeant, sarcastically.
"Exactly so, Sergeant." Nothing could shake the valet's calm self-possession. "It was a very unpleasant feeling to know there was a young gentleman suffering from such a dangerous delusion. It seemed to me that I could not do better than to try to meet Mr. Brown and endeavour to discover what it was he fancied he had against me. Of course, it is not always convenient for me to get off duty, but this evening, Mr. Fountain being in London and not expected back until late, I was able to leave the manor. Knowing Mr. Brown's - habits - I took the liberty of waiting for him at the Blue Dragon. Not wishing to have any sort of a scene in public, it was my intention to follow him home and there ask him what I might have done to offend him. Then everything happened as I have informed you, Sergeant."
The sergeant was palpably disgusted with this story, which he did not in the least believe. But there did not seem at the moment to be any way of proving its falsity, nor could he very well charge Collins with having pushed Mark Brown in the river. Tucker's evidence showed that Collins had not only plunged in to rescue Mark, but that he had also refused to give up trying to resuscitate him when the policeman had pronounced the task to be hopeless. He looked for guidance towards Mr. Amberley, but Amberley was speaking to the valet. He wanted to know whether any car had passed him when he was following Mark, or any pedestrian. Collins answered unhesitatingly that he had seen no one until Mr. Jarrold had come by and been hailed by Tucker.
Mr. Amberley seemed to be satisfied and walked away to the fireplace and began to fill a pipe.
"I suppose you can go," said the sergeant reluctantly.
"Mind, I don't say I like the sound of this story of yours, because I don't. If you could bring witnesses to prove it all happened like you said that would be different. But all you've told me rests on your word alone, and the only person who could say different is drowned."