"What were you doing there?"
"I was at an inquest."
"Whose inquest?"
"Some poor blighter by the name of John Kennet."
"Do you mean the foreign secretary's son — the man who was killed in that country-house fire?" Teal asked sharply.
Simon regarded him benevolently.
"How you do keep up with the news, Claud," he murmured admiringly. "Sometimes I feel quite hopeful about you. It's not often, but it's so cheering when it happens. A kind of warm glow comes over me—"
"What were you doing at that inquest?" Teal said torridly.
The Saint moved his hands.
"Giving evidence. I was the hero of the proceedings, so I got nicely chewed up by the coroner for a reward. You'll read all about it in the evening papers. I hate to disappoint you, dear old weasel, but I'm afraid I've been pretty well in the public eye since about half-past ten."