"That's right," Teal said raspingly. "And I should say that I knew who did it."
The Saint raised his eyebrows.
"I don't want to seem unduly sensitive," he remarked, "but there's something about your tone of voice that makes me feel uncomfortable. Can you by any chance be suggesting—"
"We'll see about that," Teal retorted. He stepped aside out of the doorway. "Search him!" he barked.
Behind him a lanky uniformed sergeant unfolded himself into full view. Somewhat apprehensively he stepped up to the Saint and went over his coat pockets. He took out a platinum cigarette case, a wallet, an automatic lighter and a fountain pen; and an expression of outraged astonishment came over his face.
" 'Ere," he said suspiciously. "What 've you done with that gun?"
"What gun?" asked the Saint puzzledly. "You don't think I'd carry a gun in a suit like this, do you? I've got too much respect for my tailor. Anderson would be horrified and Sheppard would probably throw a fit."
"Search his hip pockets, you fool," snarled Mr Teal. "And under his armpits. That's where he's most likely to have it."
"And don't tickle," said the Saint severely, "It makes me go all girlish."
Breathing heavily, the sergeant searched as instructed and continued to find nothing.