The Saint's call came through.
'Mr Vernon, please,' he said.
He took out his cigarette case, opening it, and lighted a cigarette with the hand that held his gun, all in some astonishing manner that never allowed the muzzle to wander for an instant from its aim on the Baron's shirt stud; and then an unmistakable Oxford accent said: 'Hullo?'
'Vernon?' said the Saint, and his voice was so exactly like the voice affected by Mr Henry Osbett that its originator could scarcely believe his ears. 'I've got to make a change in that copy I just gave you. Make it read like this: 'They say there is safety in numbers. In that case, you can't go wrong with Miracle Tea. There are many numbers in our files, but they all praise Miracle Tea.
Simon pressed the spring bracket down with his thumb, still holding the microphone.
The Baron's stare was wide and stupefied.
'You're mad!' he said hoarsely. 'You're throwing away a fortune—'
Simon laughed at him, and lifted the microphone to his ear again. He dialled the number of Scotland Yard.
'Give me Chief Inspector Teal,' he said. 'The Saint calling.'
There was some delay on the switchboard.
The Saint looked at Baron Inescu and said: 'There's one thing you forget, Baron. I like money as much as anybody else, and I use more of it than most people. But that's a side line. I also deliver justice. When you get to Dartmoor, you'll meet some other men that I've sent there. Ask them about it. And then you in your turn will be able to tell the same story.'
The voice of Chief Inspector Teal blared short-windedly in his ear.
'Yes ?'
'Oh, Claud? How's the old tum-tum getting——... All right, if it's a sore subject; but I wondered— . . . Yes, of course I have. Just a minute. Did you get six, fourteen, and twenty-seven ?' Simon listened, and the contentment ripened on his face. 'Well, didn't I tell you ? And now you can have some more for the bag. At any time after nine o'clock there's going to be a perfect stampede of blokes asking for Miracle Tea, so you can send your squad back for more. They'd better take over the shop and grab everyone who tries to buy Miracle Tea. And while they're doing that I've got the Big Shot waiting for you. Come and get him. The address is —— Excuse me.'
The Saint had the telephone in one hand and a gun in the other, and it seemed impossible for him to have done it, but a narrow-bladed ivory-hilted knife stuck quivering in the desk half an inch from the Baron's fingers as they slid towards a concealed bell. And the Saint went on talking as if nothing had happened.
'Sixteen North Ashley Street, Berkeley Square; and the name is Inescu... . Yes, isn't that a coincidence ? But there's all the evidence you'll need to make you happy, so I don't see why you should complain. Come along over and I'll show you.'
'I'll send someone over,' Teal said stiffly. 'And thanks very much.'
Simon frowned a little.
'Why send someone?' he objected. 'I thought—'
'Because I'm busy!' came a tortured howl that nearly shattered the receiver. 'I can't leave the office just now. I—I'll have to send someone.'
