Alias the Saint [antikvár]

THE STORY OF A DEAD MAN When Long Harry camc out of Pentonville Prison, he was not expecting to be welcomed by a cohort of friends. At the worst he had reckoned an emissary of the Prisoners' Aid Society would be the most he would have to deal with, and consequendy the sight of the plump and ponderous Chief Inspector Teal lounging somnolendy against a lamp-post a few yards from the prison gates was an unwelcome surprise. Pulling his hat down over his eyes, Harry tactfully began to stroll in the opposite direction, but Inspector Teal was not so lightly to be deprived of the pleasure of renewing his acquaintance with an old customer. He hitchcd himself off his lamp-post, and came up with Long Harry in a few slothful strides that nevertheless managed to convey him over the intervening ground in a surprisingly short space of time. His hand fell on Harry's shoulder, and the yegg pulled up and faced about uneasily. "I want you, Harry," said Mr. Teal, whose sense of humour was sometimes lacking in good taste. Harry shuffled his feet. "You've got nothing on me, Mr. Teal," he said defensively. "I want you, Harry," repeated Mr. Teal sleepily, "to come along to the Corner House and have some breakfast with me, and then we'll have a litde talk." Harry said he had had breakfast, but Mr. Teal was not so easily to be put off. "If you won't cat yourself," he said, "you can watch mc and listen," he added, with unconscious humour. As he spoke he was gently shepherding Harry back past the prison gates to a diminutive car that was drawn up by the kerb. They passed down Caledonian Road in silence. Mr. Teal