And possibly the Saint was to be discreetly removed. Carn had to think of that, and it annoyed him. His first duty was to warn Templar and make some arrangements for having him looked after—that was indisputable. The Saint was no ally of his, but neither was he an enemy, nor (so far) a criminal, and as a human life he had to be considered. But the time was so short. As has been explained, Baycombe was as effectively shut off from the rest of England as if it had been lifted out of Devonshire and planted on the other side of the Channel—worse even than that, for there was neither telephone nor telegraph office in the village. To get hold of the men he required for that night’s work, Carn would have to go into Ilfracombe; and the dilapidated Ford of prehistoric vintage, which the local publican hired out to villagers whose business took them into the town, would take an unconscionable time over the journey—and would probably get up on its back axle and shriek boastfully if it went all the way without breaking down. Bittle had a Rolls, which the Saint might have had the immortal rind to borrow (with or without permission) in similar circumstances, but which Carn had to consider enviously and leave it at that. The only other car in the neighbourhood was Mr. Lomas-Coper’s Morris. Carn reviewed that possibility and reluctantly ruled it out, for what Algy knew Bloem might be expected to find out. And, once in Ilfracombe, men would have to be raised and brought to Baycombe. Even after nightfall, the number of officers Carn could assemble for the raid was strictly limited, for the Tiger must not be alarmed at all costs, and that was a difficult thing to ensure with the doubtful Agatha Girton all but on the detective’s doorstep. In London, Miss Girton could have been temporarily removed, since London is a large place and its policemen hold their tongues, but Carn had no faith in the reticence of Mr. Hopkins. Then, since Carn would have to stake his success on the skill of a mere handful of men, he wanted if possible to phone London and get those men specially sent down from the Yard by racing car—he had the Yard man’s congenital contempt for the provincial constabulary. That would be running it very fine, but he figured that it could just be wangled if he got a clear line and found the Assistant Commissioner quickly, and if the said Commissioner impressed it on the special squad that they would have to touch the ground in spots if they were going to be in at the kill, and if nothing went wrong with the police car. There were plenty of odds against him, but he reckoned that the importance of the occasion justified going to extremes—and, if the worst came to the very worst, he could still call in the country bumpkins and swear in the Saint and Orace, as he had the right to do, though it would gall his soul to have to make his arrest with their assistance.