Prelude For War

'How long ago was that ?'

'Not 'arf an hour ago, it wasn't. You oughter know.'

'And then you went straight out for the police, I sup­pose.'

'I went an' phoned Scotland Yard, that's wot I done, knowing as it's their business to catch murderers, an' a good thing, too. They got you, all right.'

'You didn't scream or anything?' Simon asked inter­estedly.

The woman snorted.

'Wot, me? Me scream an' 'ave all the neighbours in, an' get me 'ouse a bad nime ? Not likely. This is a respecta­ble place, this is, or it was before you come to it.' A twinge of grief shot through her suety frame and made it quiver. 'An' now ooze going ter pie me rent, that's wot I wanter know.'

The Saint extracted a cigarette from his case. The minor details of the situation were satisfactorily cleared up—the remarkably prompt arrival of the C.I.D. combined with the absence of a crowd outside. The fact that that exceptional conjunction of circumstances had resulted in his present predicament unfortunately remained unaltered; but it was some consolation to know that his first wild surmise was wrong and that Teal hadn't been led there in some fan­tastic way on a definite search for him. It made the odds look rather more encouraging.

'Madam,' he said helpfully, 'I should think you might do rather well for a while by inviting the public to drop in and charging them sixpence admission. X marks the spot where the body was found, and they can see the original pool of blood on the mat. With Inspector Teal's bowler hat on the mantelpiece in a glass case and a plaster cast of his tummy in the hall­——'

Mr Teal thrust himself sizzlingly forward. He signed to his plain-clothes sergeant.

'Take her outside and get her statement,' he gritted.

Then he turned back to the Saint. His eyelids drooped as he fought frantically to maintain some vestige of the pose of somnolent boredom which had been his lifelong defence against all calamities.

'And while that's being done, I'd like to hear what you've got to say.'

'Say?' repeated the Saint vaguely. He searched for his lighter. 'Why, Claud, I can only say that it all looks most mysterious. But I'm sure it 'll all turn out all right. With that brilliant detective genius of yours——'

'Never mind that,' Teal said pungently. 'I want to hear what you've got to say for yourself. I came here and found you standing over the body.'

The Saint shrugged.

'Exactly,' he said.

'What do you mean—'exactly' ?'

Mr Teal's voice was not quite so monotonous as he wanted it to be. It tended to slide off its note into a kind of squawk. But that was something that the Saint's ineffa­ble sangfroid always did to him. It was something that always brought Mr Teal to the verge of an apoplectic seizure.

'What do you mean?' he squawked.

'My dear ass,' said the Saint patiently, in the manner of one who explains a simple point to a small and dull-witted child, 'you said it yourself. You came in and found me standing over the body. You know perfectly well that when I murder people you never come in and find me stand­ing over the body. Now, do you ?'

Mr Teal's eyes boggled in spite of the effort he made to control them. The hot