Inspector Fernack must have gabbled his evidence and rushed back to his office like a broker returning from lunch during a boom, for he was on the wire as soon as Simon asked for him.
"This is the Voice of Experience, Henry," he said. "Your beef trust has just oozed out, taking Cokey and Ricco with them. I think they'll make noises eventually, so you can take your boots off and get ready to hear them vocalise. Now while you and the boys are getting cosy with them, I've got one final little job to do. So if you'll excuse me…"
"Hey, wait a minute!" The anguish in Fernack's voice was almost frantic. "If you've got any further information, you ought to—"
"My dear Henry, if I waited around to do all the things I ought to, I'd be wasting as much energy as you spend on your setting-up exercises."
"I don't do any setting-up exercises!"
"Then you certainly ought to. That fine manly figure of yours must be preserved. Now I really must get busy, because you've got plenty on your hands as it is, and I don't want you to have another murder to worry about."
"You let me worry about my own worrying," Fernack said grimly. "All I want to know is what else you know now."
"You didn't get the significance of the lock?"
"What lock?"
"Never mind," said the Saint. "It will dawn on you one of these days. Now I really must be going."