"Oh, no."
"What did you do with it?"
"It never was in my room. So I hope you won't disturb the atmosphere of my elegant estaminet by sending any more of your messengers after it. You see, after I left Barbara here I went to mother luggage store and bought another bag and put the iridium in it, and I filled your bag with an assortment of sporting goods of suitable weight and, I think, of rather an appropriate shape. Then I left the really valuable bag at a police station on the way home, to be called for later."
"Which police station?" asked Uttershaw; and suddenly his casual mien had vanished.
Now he looked rather like a polished gray vulture, and the transformation was so slight that it was startling.
The Saint shrugged.
"I'm afraid it wouldn't do you much good to know," he said. "I told the local mandarin that they were to be delivered to our pal Inspector Fernack. I mean those two pretty green bottles in the bag. And I'm quite sure they've been moved by now. You might be good enough to take a precinct, but I don't think even you could raise the troops to storm the bastilles you'd have to break into to get that dust back now."
He paused, and asked: "Incidentally, do you think one would have to pay income tax on a reward like your insurance company was offering? Not that taxpaying isn't a pleasure these days, but 1 have to think of my budget."
"I imagine you would," Uttershaw said judicially, his composure flowing back into him like a returning tide. "Did you make any other arrangements for Varetti and Walsh?"
"Only a welcoming deputation of two of the ugliest cops I've seen in a long life of looking at ugly cops."