despairingly.
'Did you ever hear a proverb about little things pleasing little minds ?' she said.
Unabashed, the Saint put down his spoon and admired his handiwork. To any but the most minute examination, it looked exactly like a high-grade small-leaf tea. And some of it was. The other ingredients were hardly less ordinary, except in that particular combination.
'Did you ever hear another proverb about a prophet in his own country ?' he answered. 'If you had a little more reverence for my mind, you'd see that it was nearly double its normal size. Don't you get the idea ?'
'Not yet.'
'This is what I originally meant to do. Maybe it wasn't such a huge idea then; although if I could get enough little ideas that handed me fifteen hundred quid a time I wouldn't worry so much about passing up the big stuff. But still that was just good clean fun. Now it's more than that. If I'm right, and Teal still doesn't know what he had in his pocket this afternoon, we don't want him to even start thinking about it. Therefore I just want to return him his Miracle Tea, and I'll be sure he won't give it another thought. But I never had any Miracle Tea. Therefore I've got to concoct a passable substitute. I don't know the original formula; but if this recipe doesn't live up to the name I'll drink a gallon of it.'
'Of course,' she said, 'you couldn't just go out and buy another packet to give him.'
Simon gazed at her in stunned admiration.
'Could you believe that I never thought of that ?'
'No,' said Patricia.
'Maybe your right,' said the Saint ruefully.
He gave the basin another stir, and shrugged.
'Anyway,' he said, 'it'd be a pity to waste all this work, and the chance of a lifetime as well.'
He sat down at the table and cheerfully proceeded to pack his own remarkable version of Miracle Tea into the original carton. Having stuffed it full, he replaced the seals and wrappings with as much care as he had removed them; and when he had finished there was not a trace to show that the package had ever been tampered with.
'What will you do if he dies ?' asked the girl.
'Send a wreath of tea roses to his funeral,' said the Saint. He put down the completed packet after he had inspected it closely from every angle, and moved himself over to a more comfortable lounging site on the settee. His eyes were alert and hot with a gathering zest of devilment. 'Now we go into the second half of this brilliant conspiracy.'
'What does that mean ?'
'Finding out where Claud Eustace buys fifteen hundred quid for half a dollar. Just think, sweetheart—we can go shopping once a week and keep ourselves in caviar without ever doing another stroke of work!'
He reached for the telephone and set it on his lap while he dialled Teal's private number with a swift and dancing forefinger. The telephone, he knew, was beside Teal's bed; and the promptness with which his ring was answered established the detective's location with quite miraculous certainty.
'I hope,' said the Saint, with instantaneous politeness, 'that I haven't interrupted you in the middle of any important business, Claud.'
The receiver did not actually explode in his ear. It was a soundly constructed instrument, designed to resist spontaneous detonation. It did, however, appear to feel some strain in reproducing the cracked-foghorn
