"I've long since come to the conclusion that most of these stories of the Saint are pure legend," said Mr Teal with a real flash of intelligence. "In nine cases out of ten he remains in full view and just dares us to do our worst. One of these days he's going to dare us once too often. Perhaps this is the day," he added hopefully. "Anyhow, let's get going."
"Where to, sir?"
"We know he's got a place at Weybridge, so we might as well run down and have a look at it," replied Mr Teal, climbing into the car. "We'll try every place we know until we find him."
The more he thought of his recent interview with the Saint, the more he reviewed the subsequent happenings, the higher became his dudgeon. In everything except outward appearance Chief Inspector Teal was exactly like a fire-breathing dragon as he sat in the back of the car, asking the driver why he had left the engine behind and what was the blank-blank idea of driving with the brakes full on.
However, in spite of his unsympathetic comments the journey was accomplished in remarkably good time, and a gleam of hope appeared in Mr Teal's overheated blue eyes when he saw lights gleaming from the windows of Simon Templar's house on St George's Hill. In answer to his thunderous knock and insistent ringing the door was opened by Orace, who inspected him with undisguised disfavour.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Orace witheringly.
"Is Templar here?" roared Mr Teal.
"Is 'oo 'ere? If you mean Mister Templar—"
"I mean Mr Templar!" said the detective chokingly. "Is Mr Templar here?"
"Oo wants ter know?"