1
"Kennet was a member of the Sons of France?" Simon repeated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. His mother was French, and he was brought up with French as a second language. He spoke it perfectly. I told you I'd been making inquiries. I've established the fact that he joined the Sons of France six months ago under the name of Jean de la Paix. Incidentally, he was also a member of the French Communist party." Teal went on watching the Saint searchingly and with a glint of malice. "I thought you'd have known that."
The Saint blew a geometrically faultless smoke ring across the table. His face was tranquilly uncommunicative, relieved from blankness only by a faint inscrutable smile; but behind the mask his brain was running like a dynamo.
"I might have guessed," he said.
"Did you?"
"I'm a good guesser. 'Jean de la Paix,' too — he had a sense of humour, after all. And guts. For a registered member of the French Communist party to join the Sons of France at all was guts, and he must have got further than just joining. That would only be another reason why he had to be cremated."
"What was the first reason?"
Simon looked down at his fingernails.
"You want to know a good deal," he said, and looked up again.