saw him at number six, Duchess Place, just round a couple of corners from here. I know he was there, because I saw him myself a little while ago. But you won't find him if you go round now.'
'How do you know that?'
'Because he's pulled his freight-he and another guy who tried to blip me over the head.'
Teal chewed out his gum into a preoccupied assortment of patterns, gazing at him stolidly.
'Is that all you mean to tell me?'
Simon cocked an abstracted eyebrow at him.
'Meaning?'
'If an attempt was made to murder you, there must be a reason for it. You may have made yourself dangerous to this man, or this gang, in some way, and they want to get rid of you. Why not let us give you a hand for once?'
Pride would not let Mr. Teal say any more; but Simon saw the blunt sincerity in the globular pink face, and knew that the detective was not merely putting on a routine blarney.
'Are you getting sentimental in your old age, Claud?' he protested, in a strain of mockery that was kinder than usual.
'I'm only doing my job.' Teal made the admission grudgingly, as if he was afraid of betraying an official secret. 'I know you sometimes get on to things before we hear of them, and I thought you might like to work in with us for a change.'
Simon looked at him soberly. He understood the implications of everything that Teal had left unsaid, the unmentioned vials of acid comment which must have been decanted on that round lethargic head as a result of their last contest; and he sympathised. There had never been any malice behind the ebullitions of Tealbaiting which enlivened so many chapters of his scapegrace career.
He hooked one leg over the arm of his chair.
'I'd like to help you-if you helped me,' he said seriously. 'But I've damned little to offer.'
He hesitated for a moment, and then ran briefly over the events which had made up the entertainment in Duchess Place.
'I don't suppose that's much more use to you than it is to me,' he ended up. 'My part of it hangs together, but I don't know what it hangs on. Mrs. Ellshaw was killed because she'd seen her husband, and I was offered the pineapple because I knew she'd seen him. The only thing I don't quite understand is why they didn't try to kill me when they had me in Duchess Place; but maybe they didn't want to hurry it. Anyway, one gathers that Ellshaw is a kind of unhealthy guy to see-I wonder if Ripwell saw him?'
'I haven't seen Ripwell myself yet,' said Teal. 'He's gone down to Shepperton to look at things for himself, and I shall have to go down tonight and have a talk with him. But I thought I'd better see you first.'
The Saint fixed him with clear and speculative blue eyes for a few seconds, and then he drawled: 'I could run you down in the car.'
Somehow or other, that was what happened; Mr. Teal was never quite sure why. He assured himself that he had never contemplated such a possibility when he set out to interview the Saint. In any case on which he was engaged, he insisted to this sympathetic internal Yes-man, the last thing he wanted was to have Simon Templar messing about and getting in his way. He winced to think of the remarks the Assistant Commissioner would make if he knew about it. He told himself that his only reason for accepting the Saint's offer was to have both his witnesses at hand for an easier comparison of clues; and he allowed himself to be hurled down to Shepperton in the Saint's hundred-mile-an-hour road menace with his qualms considerably soothed by the adequacy of his ingenious excuse.
They found his lordship pottering unconcernedly in his garden-a tall spare vigorous man with white hair and a white moustache. He had an unassuming manner and a friendly smile that were leagues apart from the conventional idea of a big business man.
'Chief Inspector Teal? I'm pleased to meet you. About that bomb, I suppose-a ridiculous affair. Some poor devil as mad as a hatter about capitalists or something, I expect. Well, it didn't do me any harm. Is this your assistant?'
His pleasant grey eyes were glancing over the Saint; and Teal performed the necessary introduction with some trepidation.
'This is Mr. Templar, your lordship. I only brought him with me because----'
'Templar?' The grey eyes twinkled. 'Not the great Simon Templar, surely?'
'Yes, sir,' said Teal uncomfortably. 'This is the Saint. But----'
He stopped, with his mouth open and his eyes starting to protrude, blinking speechlessly at one of the most astounding spectacles of his life. Lord Ripwell had got hold of the Saint's hand, and was pumping it up and down and beaming all over his face with a spontaneous warmth that was quite different from the cheerful courtesy with which he had greeted Mr. Teal himself.
'The Saint? Bless my soul! What a coincidence! I think I've read about everything you've ever done, but I never thought I should meet you. So you really do exist. That's splendid. My dear fellow- Mr. Teal cleared his throat hoarsely.
'I was trying to explain to your lordship that- 'Remember the way you put it over on Rayt Marius twice running?' chortled his lordship, continuing to pump the Saint's hand. 'I think that was about the best thing you've ever done. And the way you got Hugo Campard, with that South American revolution? I never had any use for that man- knew him too well myself.'
'I brought him down,' said Mr. Teal, somewhat hysterically, 'because he had the same'
'And the way you blew up Francis Lemuel?' burbled Lord Ripwell. 'Now, that was a really good job of bombing. You'll have to let me into the secret of how you did that before you leave here. I say, I'll bet Chief Inspector Teal would like to know. Wouldn't he? You must have led him a beautiful dance.'
