Lady Valerie looked at the Saint again and back to the two policemen.
Simon put his cigarette between his lips and drew at it very slowly.
"Why," she said, "that's the funniest thing I ever heard!"
There was a silence in which no pins could have been heard dropping because nobody was dropping pins. The sergeant scratched another part of his head and squeezed little wedges of coagulated dandruff from under his fingernails. He looked as unhappy as any public servant must look when confronted by a situation that fails to follow the dotted line. Simon took his cigarette out of his mouth and trickled the smoke out in a long leisured streamer through the unaltered quizzical curve of his lips. His gaze rested contemplatively on Lady Valerie as her glance returned to him. She looked coy and complacent, like a puppy that has got away with an unguarded plate of foie gras canapés. It was left to the constable to make the first constructive contribution. An expression of mingled relief and pride had ironed the wrinkles out of his countenance when he heard Lady Valerie's confirmatory denial: quite plainly he had been making a dutiful effort to convince himself that the Saint had actually been caught more or less red handed, but he had never really made it stick hard enough to be able to let go of it, and it was distinctly cheering to him to be absolved from the strain of continuing to hold it down. Now he was free to indulge in his own theories, and the solution came to him with dazzling simplicity.
"I can see wot's 'appened," he proclaimed. "It's as clear as daylight. It's a gang. That's wot it is. One of these gangs which Mr Templar is always breakin' up 'as got it in for 'im, and they're tryin' to frame him for this kidnapping which he knows nothing about so as to get 'im out o' the way and leave 'emselves free to get on with their dirty work. That's wot it is."
The sergeant did not seem impressed.
"It isn't because any threats 'ave bin made to you in case you tell the truth, is it, Lady Valerie?" he persisted, as if hoping against hope. "Because if they 'ave, I can tell you that while we're here you need 'ave no fear of any menaces, no matter ooze—"
"Of course not," said the girl. "Really, Sergeant, you're very kind, and I'm sure you mean well and all that sort of thing, but this is getting too ridiculous for words."
"It's a gang," repeated the constable confidently. "That's wot—"
"Will you shut your mouth?" said the sergeant crushingly; and when his subordinate had obeyed he looked rather miserable and lonely. "Wot the 'ell," he said, giving way to forces stronger than official rank, "are we goin' to do about this?"