There was the sound of a tiny chink coming from the living-room window. The frame creaked as though something had been forced between the two sashes. Then there was a snap as the bolt securing the upper and lower half together was forced back. It was followed by a few moments' silence.
Mr. Amberley waited, standing close to the crack of the door.
The living-room window was being pushed gently up from the outside; it stuck a little, and Amberley heard a hand slip on the glass. The betraying sound was again followed by absolute stillness, but after a moment the window was thrust up farther and the curtains were parted, letting in the pale moonlight.
Mr. Amberley, watching through the crack, saw for a moment a gloved hand holding back the curtain; then it moved and grasped the window sill. Soundlessly the nocturnal visitor climbed into the room; for an instant as he stood in the shaft of moonlight Amberley was able to study him. He seemed to be wearing a long coat, and as he turned, Amberley saw that there was something over his head, probably a sack with eyeholes cut in it. It gave him an oddly sinister look; Amberley wondered what the sergeant would think of it.
An electric torch flashed over to the kitchen door; the unknown man moved softly into the small passageway that separated the two rooms, and the torch-beam swept round to light the stairs.
The man stood still, darkly silhouetted against the moonlight beyond. Amberley watched him take something out of his pocket and make a movement with his hand as though shaking scent onto a handkerchief.
Then he stiffened suddenly, listening. The gate had squeaked.
Amberley drew back noiselessly, feeling his way, and came to the larder door and groped for the handle. He began to turn it. Whoever the newcomer might be, he was not expected by the man at the foot of the stairs.
Someone else was getting in at the window; a boot scraped on the wall, and the whole window shook as a head came into sharp contact with the frame. A voice said involuntarily: "Blast!"
The man at the foot of the stairs turned and was gone like a flash into the kitchen. Under cover of the noise made by the second man Amberley had opened the larder door. When the hooded man's torch swept the kitchen it was empty. The man was wearing rubber soles, and his feet made no sound on the stone floor. He reached the back door, twisted the key round in the lock and a moment later was gone.
Mr. Amberley came out of the larder and strode to meet the second man, who had scrambled in at the window and was making for the kitchen. "You blithering idiot!" he said in a voice of rage. "You fat-headed, blundering ass!"
"Good Lord!" gasped Anthony Corkran, blinking in the glare of Mr. Amberley's torch. "You don't mean to say it was you? What the devil are you doing here?"
Amberley turned to call up the stairs. "You can come down, Sergeant. The game's up."
Corkran jumped. "What? Sergeant Gubbins up there? Where's Miss Brown? I say, you know! Tut-tut!"
"Anthony," said Mr. Amberley with dangerous calm, "you are very near death. Don't provoke me too far!"
The sergeant came clumping down the stairs. "What's happened, sir?" he demanded.
"Nothing," said Amberley bitterly. "My friend Mr. Corkran has seen to that."
The sergeant's torch discovered Anthony; he looked at him with a kindly eye. "Well, I don't know that I'm altogether sorry," he said.
"But, I say, look here!" began Anthony, and broke off. "What on earth's the stink?"
"chloroform," said Amberley, moving into the living room and striking a match.
The sergeant began to feel real affection for Mr. Corkran.
"But dash it all, it can't have been you I followed all the way from the manor!" protested Anthony.
"It wasn't." Amberley lit the lamp and turned. "It may interest you to know that the sergeant and I were lying in wait for the man you followed. If you hadn't come barging your way into the house with enough row to wake the dead we'd have had him by now."
"Well, damn it, if you were here, why didn't you nab him?" said Anthony.
"Because I wanted to get him in the act, you fool."
"Act of what?"
Amberley gave a sudden laugh. "chloroforming the sergeant. Well, it can't be helped. You'd better tell us your side." He moved across to the window and shut it and pushed the bolt back into place.
It seemed that Corkran had been doing a little detective work on his own account. He had gone to bed upon his return from Greythorne to Norton Manor earlier in the evening, but not to sleep. He had read for some time; he did not think he could have turned his light out until past midnight, and for some time after that he had lain awake. He was just getting drowsy when he heard a faint sound outside. His room looked out on the front of the house, and he had often noticed that the noise of anyone's approach was considerably magnified by the loose gravel which covered the drive.
He had thought it an odd hour for anyone to be out and had had the curiosity to get up and look out of the window. At first the drive had appeared to be deserted, but all at once he had caught a glimpse of a man's back view as he emerged from the shadow of a big rhododendron bush. He must have been about thirty yards from the house and he was going towards the gate, so that Corkran only saw his back, and that very imperfectly. He was walking on the narrow grass border and pushing a bicycle. It must have been the bicycle wheels on the gravel that Corkrann had heard. He wore a long coat and a tweed cap pulled down over his head. Corkran could not recognise him at that distance, but his stealthy mode of progression, coupled with the lateness of the hour, aroused all his suspicions. He had very little doubt himself that it was Collins, and he made up his mind there and then to follow him in the hopes of discovering some valuable clue.
He had hastily pulled on a pair of trousers over his pyjamas, thrust his feet into a pair of shoes and socks, grabbed a coat, and tiptoed downstairs to the front door. He did not want to run any risk of waking Joan and alarming her, and he wasn't particularly keen on waking Brother Basil either. He happened to know that there was an old bicycle Joan sometimes used in a shed near the house. He had got hold of this and set off in pursuit.
By the time he had reached the gates there was no sign of the mysterious cyclist. Corkran had chosen the Upper Nettlefold Road, thinking it the likeliest way for the man to have gone. The seat of the bicycle was too low for him, and one of the tyres badly needed pumping. Altogether it was a fairly uncomfortable journey, but he had kept on and been rewarded, about a mile from the manor, by catching sight of his quarry. After that the chase had been very good fun. He had taken care to keep well behind, for even though there was no lamp on his machine the moonlight would have betrayed him had the man he was following chanced to look round.
He had very nearly been discovered at the end of the journey. The unknown man had passed the end of the lane to Ivy Cottage, and he, Corkran, had pedalled staunchly after him. But some yards on the first man had dismounted and pushed his bicycle into the ditch. Corkran was luckily in the shadow of a clump of trees at the time. He too had sought shelter in the ditch and waited to see what his quarry would do. The man had turned and come back on foot. Corkran did not mind admitting that he had got a bit of a shock then. The fellow was no longer wearing his cap, but had got a sack pulled over his head with eyeholes cut in it. In the moonlight, and before he had had time to see just what it was, it had looked perfectly beastly. Of course, this had made him certain that whoever was wearing the sack was not up to any good. He wished he had got a weapon at that moment, but since Brother Basil kept the gun room locked, and he wasn't himself in the habit of travelling with a revolver, he hadn't. However, it seemed pretty feeble to give up the stalk at this moment, so he had followed the man, and from behind the hedge surrounding the cottage had watched him force open the window and climb in. After that, of course, weapon or no weapon, he had had to go on. The rest they both knew.