"All I've told you is blowed-in-the-glass," said Prester John in a rapid undertone, his pose having dropped from him like a cloak. "I am really going straight, and I know no more than I've told you. Except this. I know how it is between you and Miss Hawthorne--why, if a split sneezes it's known all over the underworld in half an hour. The order went out that she's got to go, and Lew's been told off to do it. He's going to escape to-night--I suppose you knew that? But that isn't Lew's way." He looked at Storm steadily. "The difference between Lew and me is that I was once a gentleman--whatever that may mean. But I was. Lew never will be. His mind is so ... vulgar. Take a stable tip." He held out his hand a little hesitatingly, and smiled when Storm took it. "Thanks," said Storm. "But why couldn't you say that in front of Teal?" "My--er--dear sir, one must make good exits--intriguing curtains." He swung his stick, and once more his face was sanctimonious and his voice treacly. "The worthy Inspector Teal has, in his blundering fashion, crossed swords with me on many memorable occasions. Once, he even succeeded in obtaining my--er--incarceration for a period of three years---the only time I have ever been inside. Painstaking--slow and sure--but not brilliant. I have taken a number of years convincing him that the Church was my proper _métier_. His mind is not elastic. I feared that if I--er--removed the mask of the musical comedy parson the shock, you know--terrible, terrible, terrible--all one's ideas dislocated--and so forth. You appreciate my point?" he pleaded, and there was a peep of laughter in Storm's grey eyes as he watched the lank figure pass mincingly down the stone corridor. CHAPTER XVI SENSATION OUT OF COURT Storm returned to meet the lazily inquiring gaze of Inspector Teal. Teal was far too ponderous a man to be swayed by the emotions of the thin-flanked herd, but it was obvious that puzzlement was seething within his placid bulk--the symptom was the exaggerated precision with which his jaws chewed from side to side the plastic sweetmeat of Mr. Wrigley--and Storm was privately amused. "What was his secret?" demanded the detective with assumed languor, when after some time the information had not been volunteered. "Oh--Prester John sent you his love," Storm replied truthfully but uncertainly. "He didn't dare give it you in person!" Mr. Teal's recumbent mountainousness heaved with an explosive grunt which registered unbelief.