This apparently meant no more to the local authority than John Smith or Leslie Charteris. He excavated a sheet of paper and began to construct a report along the lines which he had probably memorised in his youth, which had been a long time ago.
"You're from where, Mr Temple?" he asked, lifting his head.
"Templar," Simon corrected him, with his hopes beginning to rise again. "I just came from St Louis, Missouri."
The sergeant wrote this down, spelling everything carefully.
"You got any identification papers on you?"
"What for?" Simon inquired. "It's the corpse you're going to have to identify, not me. I know who I am."
"I reckon so; but we don't," the other rejoined stolidly. "Now if you'll just oblige me by answering my questions—
Simon sighed again, and reached for his wallet.
"I'm afraid you're going to be difficult, so help yourself, Lieutenant."
"Sergeant," maintained the other, calmly squinting at the Saint's draft cards and driving licenses and noting that the general descriptions fitted the man in front of him.