Simon's glance travelled again over the disordered room.
"Someone seems to have been looking for something," he said aimlessly. "I wonder if he found what he was after?"
Casually, as if performing some quite idle action, he leaned forward and picked up a crumpled sheet of newspaper from the litter scattered over the floor. It was a French newspaper five days old, and a passage in it had been heavily marked out in blue pencil.
"Well, well, well," he said. "Listen, Claud. What do you make of this? 'We should like your readers to ask themselves where this criminal association calling itself the Sons of France obtains its funds and the store of arms which Colonel Marteau has so often boasted that he has hidden away for the day when they will be needed. And we ask our readers, how long will they tolerate the existence of this terrorist organization in their midst?' "
He picked up a second scrap of paper from the floor. Again there was a blue-pencilled paragraph.
" 'M. Roquambert, in a vitriolic speech to the Chamber of Deputies last night, urged on the government the necessity for a greatly increased expenditure on armaments. "Are we," he demanded, "to suffer the Boche to batter once more on the gates of Paris?" ' " Simon let the cuttings flutter out of his fingers. "I seem to remember that Comrade Roquambert is one of the heads of the Sons of France," he said. "Doesn't that interest you?"
"What was wrong with that verdict?" Teal repeated.
The Saint looked at him, and for once there was no mockery in his eyes.
"I think it would be a good idea if you started investigating two murders instead of one," he said.