Prelude For War

it's your job to stop the traffic when he wants to cross the street. The technical name for that is civilization. Correct?'

'Go on.'

The Saint poured out some more coffee.

'Now let's go to France. There they have a political Fascist organization called the Sons of France. It may or may not be illegal. I seem to remember that they passed a law not long ago to ban all organizations of that kind, and the old Croix de Feu was disbanded on account of it. The Sons of France may have found a way to get round the law, or the law may not give a damn, or they may have too much pull already, or something; or they may just be illegal and proud of it, and even if that's the case it's noth­ing to do with you. It's a matter for the French police.'

'I'm listening.'

'That's something. Well, from one indication and another it seems pretty clear that Luker is backing the Sons of France. That's natural enough. Dictators always go in for rearmament in a big way, and therefore Fascist regimes are good for business. Besides which, if you can get enough synthetic Caesars thumping their chests and bellowing defiance at each other it won't be long before you have a nice big war, which means a boom for the armourers. But it isn't a crime to finance a political party, or else half the titled people in England would be in the hoose-gow. Unless the Sons of France are an illegal organization, in which case it's still a matter for the French police and not for you.'

'You haven't got down to Kennet yet,' Teal said slug­gishly.

'Kennet was a pacifist, a Communist, and all kinds of idealistic 'ist.' He thought he could do a lot of good by show­ing up the arms racket. Old stuff. Dozens of people have done it before, and everybody says 'How shocking!' and 'Why can't something be done about it ?' and then they go off and forget about it. But Kennet went on. He joined the Sons of France. And by some fluke he must have found out something that really was worth finding out; so he had an accident. But you still can't do anything about it.'

'I can do something about wilful murder.'

'I did say he was murdered, but that's just what seems obvious to me. I've no evidence at all. We both know Windlay was murdered, but I've no evidence to pin it on any particular person any more than you have. It's no good just saying that whoever did the actual jobs we know that Luker was at the back of them. What are you going to tell a jury ? With people like we're dealing with, you'd want an army of eyewitnesses before you could even get a war­rant. Even then I don't know if you could get it. They're too big. Look how you've already had the word from up top to lay off the case. British justice is the most incorrupt­ible in the world, so they tell you; but you can always whitewash a crook if he's big enough because it isn't what they call 'in the public interest' that he should be shown up. And look at the circumstances of these Kennet and Windlay cases. It's a million to one that you could never get any conclusive evidence on either of them if you worked until you could tuck your beard into your boots.'

Mr Teal rolled the pink wrapping of his chewing gum into a ball and went on rolling it. His china-blue eyes were still unwaveringly inquisitorial.

'I'll agree with some of that up to a point. But you know more than that. You know something else that you're still working on.'

'Only one thing.' Simon was calm and collected: he had made up his mind to be candid, and he was going through with it—it could do him no harm, only perhaps reduce the complications of Teal's interference. 'Kennet fell pretty hard for Lady Valerie Woodchester, who was set on to him by Fairweather to try and steer him off. He talked to her a lot—I don't know how much he told her. And he left some of his evidence in writing. That's why the flat was torn apart when Windlay was murdered. They were looking for it. But it wasn't there. Lady Valerie's got it.'

The detective's eyes suddenly opened wide.

'But——'

'I know,' said the Saint wearily. 'You're too brilliant, Claud,