Mr. Teal felt that he was gazing at something that Could Not Possibly Happen. The earth was reeling across his eyes like a fantastic roundabout. He would have been incapable of further agonies of dizzy incredulity if Lord Ripwell had suddenly gone down on all fours behind a bush and tried to growl like a bear.
The effort which he had to exert to get a grip on the situation must have cost him two years of life.
'I brought the Saint down, your lordship, because he seemed to have some kind of knowledge of the matter, and I thought -------'
'Quite,' drivelled his lordship. 'Quite. Quite right. Now I know that everything's in good hands. If anybody knows how to solve the mystery, it's Mr. Templar. He's got more brains than the whole of Scotland Yard put together. I say, Templar, you showed them how to do their own job in that Jill Trelawney case, didn't you? And you had them guessing properly when Renway-that Treasury fellow-you know----------'
Chief Inspector Teal suppressed an almost uncontrollable shudder. Lord Ripwell was actually digging Simon Templar in the ribs.
It was some time before Mr. Teal was able to take command again, and even then it was a much less positive sort of command than he had intended to maintain.
'Have you ever come across a man named Ellshaw?' he asked, when he could persuade Lord Ripwell to pay any attention to him.
'Ellshaw? Ellshaw? Never heard of him. No. What is he?'
'He is a rather bad cardsharper, your lordship.'
'I don't play cards. No. I don't know him. Why?'
'There is some reason to believe that he may be connected with these bombing attempts. Did you ever by any chance meet his wife-Mrs. Florence Ellshaw? She was a sort of charwoman.'
Ripwell shook his head.
'I don't think I've ever employed any sort of charwoman.' He looked up and raised his voice. 'Hey, Martin, have we ever had a charwoman called Mrs. Ellshaw?'
'No, sir,' answered the youngish man who was coming across the lawn from the house, as he joined them. 'At least, not in my time.'
Ripwell introduced them.
'This is Mr. Irelock-my secretary. He's been looking after me for five years, and he knows as much as I do.'
'I'm sure that we've never employed anyone of that name,' said Martin Irelock. To describe him in a sentence, he looked like a grown-up and rather seriousminded Kewpie with hornrimmed glasses fixed across the bridge of his nose as firmly as if they had grown there. 'Do you think he has something to do with this business, Inspector?'
'It's just a theory, but it's the only one we have at present,' said Mr. Teal, He summarised Simon Templar's knowledge of the mystery for them. Lord Ripwell was interested in this. He slapped the Saint on the back.
'Damn good,' he applauded. 'But why ever didn't you shoot the man when you had the chance? Then everything would have been cleared up.'
'Claud Eustace doesn't like me shooting people,' said the Saint mildly, at which Lord Ripwell guffawed in a manner which removed the last shadow of doubt from Teal's mind that at least one member of the peerage was in advanced and malignant stage of senile decay.
Teal almost strangled himself.
'Apparently both the bombs were planted on the same day,' he said, trying to lead the conversation back into the correct vein with all the official dignity of which he was capable. 'I understand that your secretary----'
'That's right,' agreed Irelock. 'I had to come down here the day before yesterday, and there was no bomb here then.'
'What time did you leave?'
'Just after six-I caught the six-twenty back to town.'
'So the bomb must have been placed here at some time between six o'clock on Wednesday and the time the chauffeur found it this morning.' Teal's baby-blue eyes, throttled down again to a somewhat strained drowsiness, were scanning the house and garden. The grounds were only about three-quarters of an acre in extent, bordered by the road on one side and the river on another, and separated from its neighbours by well-grown cypress hedges on the other two boundaries. In such a comparatively quiet situation, it might not be difficult to hear of anyone who had been seen loitering about the vicinity. 'The local police may have learnt something more by this time, of course,' he said.
'We'll get the Inspector to come round after dinner,' said Ripwell affably. 'You'll stay, of course.'
Teal chewed for a while, pursing his lips.
'I'd rather take your lordship hack to London with me,' he said; and Ripwell frowned puzzledly.
'What on earth for?'
'Both the bombing attempts failed, but these people seem pretty determined. They made a second attempt to get Templar a few hours after the first. There's every chance that they may make a second attempt to get you; and it's easier to look after a man in London.'
If it is possible for a man to snort good-humouredly, Lord Ripwell achieved the feat.
'Stuff and nonsense, Inspector,' he said. 'I came down here for a rest and some fresh air. and I'm not going to run away just because of a thing like this. I don't expect we'll hear any more about it; but if we do. I'm in good hands. Anybody who tries to kill me while the Saint's here will be biting off a bit more than he can chew-eh? What d'you say, Templar?'
