"You was, was you?" said the constable, who had ambitions of making his mark in the C.I.D. at some future date. "Well, show me the lease."
Major Bellingford Smart felt in his pocket, and a sudden wild look came into his eyes. The lease which he had brought with him was gone; but there was something else there — something hard and knobbly.
The constable did not miss the change of expression. He came closer to Major Bellingford Smart.
"Come on, now," he ordered roughly. "Out with it — whatever it is. And no monkey business."
Slowly, stupidly, Major Bellingford Smart drew out the hard knobbly object. It was a very small automatic, and looped loosely round it was a diamond and sapphire pendant — one of the least valuable items in the Countess of Albury's vanished collection. He was still staring at it when the constable grabbed it quickly out of his hand.
"Carrying firearms, eh? And that talk about 'aving a lease in your pocket — just to get a chance to pull it out and shoot me! You've got it coming to you, all right."
He glanced round the room with a professional air, and saw the open window.
"Came in through there," he remarked, with some satisfaction at the admiring silence of his audience of butler and footman. "There'd be a lot of dust outside on that sill, wouldn't there? And look at 'is trousers."
The audience bent its awed eyes on Major Bellingford Smart's nether garments, and the Major also looked down. Clearly marked on each knee was a circular patch of sooty grime which had certainly not been there before the Saint cannoned into him in that very helpful darkness.
On the far side of the square, Simon Templar heard the constable's whistle shrilling into the night, and drifted on towards the refreshment that waited for him.