could never have been mistaken for anything but a butler.
Simon turned with a smile.
'Glad to see you, Inspector,' he said easily.
'Just 'Sergeant',' answered the plainclothes man, in a voice that sounded as if it should have been 'sergeant-major.'
He saw the automatic that Mr Uniatz was still holding, and stepped forward with a rather hollow but courageous belligerence.
'Give me that gun!' he said loudly.
Hoppy ignored him, and looked inquiringly at the only man whom he took orders from; but Simon nodded. He politely offered his own Luger as well. The Sergeant took the two guns, squinted at them sapiently, and stuffed them into his side pockets. He looked relieved, and rather clever.
'I suppose you've got licences for these firearms,' he said temptingly.
'Of course,' said the Saint, in a voice of saccharine virtue.
He produced certificate and permit to carry from his pocket. Hoppy did the same. The sergeant pored over the documents with surly suspicion for some time before he handed them to one of the constables to note down the particulars. He looked so much less clever that Simon had difficulty in keeping a straight face. It was as if the Official Mind, jumping firmly to a foregone conclusion, had spent the journey there developing an elegantly graduated approach to the obvious climax, and therefore found the entire structure staggering when the first step caved in under his feet.
A certain awkwardness crowded itself into the scene.
With a businesslike briskness that was only a trifle too elaborate, the sergeant went over to the body and brooded over it with portentous solemnity. He went down on his hands and knees to peer at the knife, without touching it. He borrowed a flashlight from one of the constables to examine the floor around it. He roamed about the boathouse and frowned into dark corners. At intervals, he cogitated. When he could think of nothing else to do, he came back and faced his audience with dogged valour.
'Well,' he said, less aggressively, 'while we're waiting for the doctor I'd better take your statements.' He turned. 'You're Mr Forrest, sir?'
The young man in the striped blazer nodded.
'Yes.'
'I've already heard the young lady's story, but I'd like to hear your version.'
Forrest glanced quickly at the girl, and almost hesitated. He said: 'I was taking Miss Chase home, and we saw a light moving in here. We crept up to find out what it was, and one of these men fired a shot at us. I turned my torch on them and pretended I had a gun too, and they surrendered. We took their guns away; and then this man started arguing and trying to make out that somebody else had fired the shot, and he managed to distract my attention and get his gun back.'
'Did you hear any noise as you were walking along ? The sort of noise this—er—deceased might have made as she was being attacked?'
'No.'
'I - did - not hear - the - noise - of - the - deceased - being -attacked,' repeated one of the constables with a notebook and pencil, laboriously writing it down.
The sergeant waited for him to finish, and turned to the Saint.
'Now, Mr Templar,' he said ominously. 'Do you wish to make a statement? It is my duty to warn you—'
'Why?' asked the Saint blandly.
