"I was told you were investigating the murder," remarked Lady Matthews.
"Officially I was. I had no desire to let Fountain get wind of my real whereabouts."
"But, Frank, what made you go to Littlehaven?" asked Felicity.
"That motorboat," answered Amberley. "I hadn't forgotten the existence of a boat capable of crossing the Channel. I'm not going to pretend that I foresaw the use it would be put to. I didn't. What I did suspect was that Fountain, realising in what danger he stood, would have arranged a getaway in case things started to go wrong. The motorboat seemed the obvious way of escape. When I got to Littlehaven I made inquiries and discovered that she had been taken from Morton's Yard and moored to a buoy a little way up the creek, past Fountain's bungalow. She had been overhauled, and when I rowed out to take a look at her I found her all ready for sea. It looked as though my surmise was right, so I employed our friend the longshoreman to watch her and notify me by telephone the moment anyone took her out. This would have enabled the police to get on to the French ports and stop Fountain there. I still think that Fountain's original reason for having the motorboat in readiness was to provide himself with a way of escape. Once Collins was dead he hadn't the smallest desire to hurt Shirley. Without the will she could do nothing. Not one of his murders did he want to commit. I can quite believe that he spoke the truth when he said he had lived through hell. If he had never inherited his uncle's estate he would have remained what I think he was at heart - a cheery, kindly natured chap who only wanted a comfortable life and enough money to indulge his highly commendable tastes. The trouble was that he had regarded himself as Jasper Fountain's heir for so many years that when he found that he had been disinherited it was unthinkable for him to relinquish everything but ten thousand pounds. He had practically no private means, but had always received a large allowance from his uncle. He struck me as cunning when hard-pressed, but by no means a profound thinker. I am certain that he never visualised the possible consequences of his initial, and comparatively mild, crime. The two servants could be kept quiet by a little money, and although it wasn't by any means the sporting thing to do, no doubt he argued that Shirley and Mark couldn't miss what they had never known. He had been brought up to regard the manor as his, and I expect he felt that he was more or less justified in suppressing the later will. Once he had taken the one false step everything else was, as he said, forced on him. And I believe that he hated it and would have chucked up the sponge if he could have done so without landing himself in gaol." He paused. His audience sat silently waiting for him to go on. "But Fountain's mental processes, though interesting, are rather off the point. I said that once Collins was dead nothing was meditated against Shirley. That, I am convinced, is true. But fate in the person of my misguided cousin, dealt Fountain a blow. He learned from her of the adventures his book,
Curiosities of Literature, had been through. She told him how interested I was in that book and how there was nothing in it, and although she had not remembered to inform me that Shirley had had it in her possession long enough to find the half of the will hidden in it, she had no difficulty in remembering it for Fountain's benefit."
"That'll do," said Shirley, quite in her old manner.
"It precious nearly did for you," retorted Amberley. "Fountain knew then where Collins had kept the will, and he knew that you'd got it. Having gone so far he had to finish the job or be caught himself. You know what happened next. Had it not been for my never-to-be-toohighly commended aunt, you might now be at the bottom of the sea. As it was, she passed on the information to me together with Peterson's telephone message, and I just managed to get to Littlehaven in time. Guessing all the way too."
Corkran found his tongue. "Guessing! Is that what you call it?"
"It is," said Amberley. "I'd no certainty. Once I found he'd struck south it was the best I could do. Luckily it turned up trumps."
"Just a minute," said Shirley. "Can you - guess - why he chose that way of killing me, and didn't take the motor boat out and just drop me overboard? It's been puzzling me."
"Yes, I think so," he replied. "For one thing it would have taken too long, and he wanted to get away from Littlehaven as quickly as possible. For another, I believe he was horrified at what he was doing. Remember, he had that curious complex about dead bodies. Because of that he didnt kill you before he sent you out to sea. You told me he never spoke to you nor looked at you. I can quite believe that. The man was in hell, scarcely sane."
He strolled over to the table and took a cigarette out of the box and lit it. His eyes travelled from one shocked, enthralled face to another. "I think that pretty well covers the ground," he said. "An interesting little case."
"Covers the ground!" ejaculated Anthony. "Well, I don't know what anybody else thinks, but in my opinion you're a blinking wonder! And don't you tell me you knew all about it, dear old Sergeant, because I'll bet you didn't!"
The sergeant replied without hesitation. "No, sir, I did not. But what I do say is that if Mr. Amberley hadn't gone suppressing valuable clues, like what he did when he never let on about the young lady being beside Dawson's body, it would have been a sight better for everyone. Why, if I'd have known that, we'd have had the whole case solved in a jiffy!" He met Mr. Amberley's eyes and repeated doggedly: "In a jiffy, Mr. Amberley. I don't say you haven't done well for an amatoor, but what you wanted, sir, was a trained mind on to it. That's what you wanted."