“Very little chance, I should say. Neither the door nor the window of the lock-up is overlooked from the bedroom windows of the cottages. If anybody noticed anything, it would have been Beach, and he has already sworn that he saw no unauthorised person approach the garage at any time.”
“Do you believe him, Gilbert?”
Barton shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, angel. I don’t like him, and I tend to distrust him on that account. He’s the sort of chap who’s buttery and smarmy to his employers and as near rude as makes no difference to chaps like me. With Mr. Walter Vanstead, Beach is on the tip of his toes all the time, treats him like royalty, with the real old-fashioned subservience of the Edwardian manservant. But I once suggested to Beach that he could lend a hand on the farm in his s
