The Saint Meets His Match

by Charteris Leslie

"Come for a walk," said Teal. "Or, if you like, we'll take a taxi. I'm sorry to have to pull you in at this hour, but you were out when I called earlier, and if I left it till tomorrow morning you might have gone away again.

"And where are we going to take this walk — or this taxi drive?"

Mr. Teal blinked. He seemed to find it a tremendous effort to keep awake.

"Rochester Row police station."

"In Pimlico?" protested the Saint. "Not that. I'm only taken to West End police stations."

"Not Pimlico," said Teal. "Westminster."

"Worse still," said the Saint. "Members of Parliament get taken there."

Mr. Teal settled his hat, which, like the traditional detective, he had not removed when he entered the flat.

"Coming?" he inquired lethargically.

"Can't," said the Saint. "Sorry, old dear."