Antony laughed.

“Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I’m right, aren’t I, about why he went out this way?”

“Yes, I think you are.” Cayley looked away⁠—towards the shrubbery. “Do you want to go noticing in there now?” He nodded at it.

“I think we might leave that to the police,” said Antony gently. “It’s⁠—well, there’s no hurry.”

Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the answer, and could now breathe again.

“Thank you, Mr. Gillingham,” he said.