Claud. Then, if you pass on to the cellars, you'll find a piece of cement flooring that had only just begun to floor. Pat and I are supposed to be under there. Which reminds me—if you decide to dig down in the hope of finding us, you'll find my second-best boiled shirt somewhere in the depths. We had to leave it behind. I don't know if you've ever noticed it, but I can give you my word that even the most pliant rubber dickey rattles like a suit of armour when you're trying to move quietly.'
For a space the detective stared at him.
Then he took out a notebook.
It was, in its way, one of the most heroic things he ever did.
'Where is this place?' he asked.
'Twenty-eight, Mallaby Road, Arrer. The name is Wilfred Garniman. And about that shirt—if you had it washed at the place where they do yours before you go toddling round the night clubs, and sent it on to me at Palma, I expect I could find a place to burn it. And I've got some old boots upstairs which I thought maybe you might like——'
Teal replaced his notebook and pencil.
'I don't want to ask too many questions,' he said. 'But if Garniman knows you got away——'
Simon shook his head.
'Wilfred does not know. He went out to fetch some water to dilute the concrete, and we moved while he was away. Later on I saw him carting out the surplus earth and dumping it on the gardening notes. When you were playing on the sands of Southend in a pair of pink shrimping drawers, Teal, did you ever notice that you can always dig more out of a hole than you can put back in it? Wilfred had quite enough mud left over to make him happy.'
Teal nodded.
'That's all I wanted,' he said, and the Saint smiled.
'Perhaps we can give you a lift,' he suggested politely.
They drove to Hanover Square in the Saint's car. The Saint was in form. Teal knew that by the way he drove. Teal was not happy about it. Teal was even less happy when the Saint insisted on being escorted into the office.
'I insist on having police protection,' he said. 'Scorpions I can manage, but when it comes to tax collectors . . . Not that there's a great difference. The same threatening letters, the same merciless bleeding of the honest toiler, the same bleary
'All right,' said Teal wearily.
He climbed out of the car, and followed behind Patricia; and so they climbed to the general office. At the high counter which had been erected to protect the clerks from the savage assaults of their victims the Saint halted, and clamoured in a loud voice to be ushered into the presence of Mr. Delborn.
Presently a scared little man came to the barrier.
'You wish to see Mr. Delborn, sir?'
'I do.'
'Yes, sir. What is your business, sir?'
'I'm a burglar,' said the Saint innocently.
'Yes, sir. What did you wish to see Mr. Delborn about, sir?'
'About the payment of my income tax, Algernon. I will see Mr. Delborn himself and nobody else; and if I don't see him at once, I shall not only refuse to pay a penny of my tax, but I shall also take this hideous office to pieces and hide it in various drains belonging to the London County Council. By the way, do you know Chief Inspector Teal? Mr. Teal, Mr.Veal. Mr. Veal——'
'Will you take a seat, sir?'
'Certainly,' said the Saint.
He was half-way down the stairs when Teal caught him.
'Look here, Templar,' said the detective, breathing heavily through the nose, 'I don't care if you have got the Scorpion in your pocket, but if this is your idea of being funny——'
Simon put down the chair and scratched his head.
'I was only obeying instructions,' he said plaintively.
