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guy Templar, we go after his moll."
"Ah yes," assented Farwill, staring into the opposite corner as if he were
not answering the question at all. "If that should prove necessary-ah yes."
"Sure," chirped Mr. Uniatz brightly, forestalling his cue. "We'll fix de
goil."
The Saint silenced him with a sudden lift of ice-blue eyes. His voice became
even softer, but the change was too subtle for Farwill to notice it.
"Who thought of that great idea?" he asked.
"It was jointly agreed," said the Honourable Leo evasively. "In such a
crisis, with such issues at stake, one cannot be sentimental. The proposition
was received with unanimous approval. As a matter of fact, I understand that
an abortive attempt has already been made in that direction I should perhaps
have explained that there is another member of our er coalition who was
unfortunately unable to be present at our recent discussion. I expect him to
arrive at any moment, as he is anx- I ious to make your acquaintance. He is a
gentleman who has already done valuable independent work towards
this ah consummation which we all desire."
The Saint's eyebrows dropped one slow an gentle quarter-inch over his steady
eyes.
"Who is he?"
Farwill's mouth opened for another elaborate paragraph; but before he had
voiced his preliminary "Ah" the headlights of a car swept across the drawn
blinds, and the gravel scraped again outside the windows. Footsteps and voices
sounded in the hall, and the library door opened to admit the form of the
Honourable Leo's butler. "Lord Iveldown," he announced.
VIII
Simon Templar's cigar had gone out. He put it down carefully in an ashtray
and took out his cigarette case. It stands as a matter of record that at that
moment he did not bat an eyelid, though he knew that the showdown had arrived.
"Delighted to see you, Iveldown," the Honourable Leo was exclaiming.
"Yorkland was unfortunately unable to stay. However, you are not too late to
make the acquaintance of our new ah agents. Mr. Orconi . . ."
Farwill's voice trailed hesitantly away. It began to dawn on him that his
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full-throated flow of oratory was not carrying his audience with him.
Something, it seemed, was remarkably wrong.
Standing in front of the door which had closed behind the retiring butler,
Lord Iveldown and Mr. Nassen were staring open-mouthed at the Saint with the
aspect of a comedy unison dance team arrested in midflight. The rigidity of
their postures, the sag of their lower jaws, the glazed bulging of their eyes,
and the suffusion of red in their complexions were so ludicrously identical
that they might have been reflections of each other. They looked like two peas
who had fallen out of their pod and were still trying to realize what had hit
them; and the Honourable Leo looked from them to the Saint and back again with
a frown of utter bewilderment.
"Whatever is the matter?" he demanded, startled into uttering one of the
shortest sentences of his life; and at the sound of his question Lord Iveldown
came slowly and painfully out of his paralysis.
He turned, blinking through his pince-nez.
"Is that that the American gunman you told me about?" he queried awfully.
"That is what I have been ah given to understand," said Farwill, recovering
himself. "We are indebted to Mr. Uniatz for the introduction. I am informed
that he has had an extensive career in the underworld of ah Pittsburgh. Do you
imply that you are already acquainted?"
His lordship swallowed.
"You bumptious blathering ass!" he said.
Simon Templar uncoiled himself from his chair with a genial smile. The
spectacle of two politicians preparing to speak their minds candidly to one
another was so rare and beautiful that it grieved him to interrupt; but he had
his own part to play. It had been no great effort to deny himself the batting
of an eyelid up to that point the impulse to bat eyelids simply had not arisen
to require suppressing. Coming immediately on the heels of Leo Farwill's
revelation, he was not sorry to see Lord Iveldown.
"What ho, Snowdrop," he murmured cordially. "Greetings, your noble Lordship."
Farwill gathered himself together.
"So you are already acquainted!" he rumbled with an effort of heartiness. "I
thought------"
"Do you know who that is?" Iveldown asked dreadfully.
Some appalling intuition made Farwill shake his head; and the Saint smiled
encouragingly.
"You tell him, Ivelswivel," he urged. "Relieve the suspense."
"That's the Saint himself!" exploded Iveldown.
There are times when even this talented chronicler's genius stalls before the
task of describing adequately the reactions of Simon Templar's victims.
Farwill's knees drooped, and his face took on a greenish tinge; but in
amplification of those simple facts a whole volume might be written in which
bombshells, earthquakes, dynamite, mule-kicks, and other symbols of
devastating violence would reel through a kaleidoscope of similes that would
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still amount to nothing but an anaemic ghost of the sight which rejoiced Simon
Templar's eyes. And the Saint smiled again and lighted his cigarette.
"Of course we know each other," he said. "Leo and I were just talking about
you, your Lordship. I gather that you're not only the bird who suggested
bumping me off so that you'd only have Patricia Holm to deal with, but your
little pal Snowdrop was the bloke who tried it on this morning and wrecked a
perfectly good hat with his rotten shooting. I shall have to add a fiver onto
your account for that, brother; but the other part of your brilliant idea
isn't so easily dealt with."
Farwill's face was turning from green to grey.
"I seem to have made a mistake," he said flabbily.
"A pardonable error," said the Saint generously. "After all, Hoppy Uniatz
didn't exactly give you an even break. But you didn't make half such a big
mistake as Comrade Iveldown over there------"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nassen make a slight movement, and his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]