Leslie Charteris The Saint 25 The Saint On Guard

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lured into a padded cell at the earliest opportunity.
Simon clicked his tongue gloomily, shaking his head at the dreadful
realisation that his recent companion was indisputably an incurable
schizophrene. His manifest distress spurred Mrs Ourley to further expansions.
"Not only that," she said, in confidential accents that could not possibly
have been heard more than three tables away, "but I think he has a grudge
against Milton. Of course, he's just as friendly and charming as he can be
when he's with us, but he does things behind Milton's back."
"How horrible," muttered the Saint solemnly, with no qualms at all that
either innuendo or sarcasm would register on that target.
He was absolutely right, for whatever satisfaction the experiment was worth.
"Yes, indeed," she trilled. "For instance, when Milton was put up for one of
Allen's clubs, only a little while ago, he was voted down. And I have it
onvery good authority that it was Allen who blackballed him. And after he'd
been a guest in our home, too!"
Simon searched for words to express his revulsion at such perfidy, but before
he had formulated the fitting phrase he was saved by the bell again. The same
heaven-sent bellboy stood by the table again.
"Telephone, Mr Templar."
"Thank you," said the Saint, and really meant it.
He went out to the booth in the lobby and said: "Hullo."
"What the hell," roared the voice of Inspector Fernack, like a bursting dam,
"are you doing there?"
The Saint smiled, and picked a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket.
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"Hullo, John Henry," he said cordially. "I'm just finishing lunch and making
love to a retired Ziegfeld girl. What are you doing?"
"How did you get loose?"
"I didn't. The FBI turned me loose. I promised to be a good boy, and they
took one look at my cherubic countenance and knew they could trust me."
"If you think "
"I do, Henry. And don't you send half a dozen squad cars screaming up here to
grab me again, because if you do the FBI will hear about it at once, and then
they'll think I've violated my parole by getting into bad company and
associating with policemen again, and of course they'd have to come right over
and ask to have me back."
"I don't believe "
"But you must, Comrade. If you don't, you're liable to look awful foolish.
And that would never do. Think of your dignity. Think of the prestige of the
Force. And if that's too much work for you, call Brother Eldon's office and
verify it."
There was an interval of silence, during which Simon could almost see the
detective's aorta laboring like a stimulated blow-fish.
Finally Fernack said, in a painful parody of his ordinary voice: "Templar,
what are you doing in this setup?"
"You heard from Fiftyfirst Street?"
"Yes." It was a grudging admission. "But "
"Then at least you've got something."
"But where did you find it?"
"I can't tell you yet. But at least I'm giving you a break. Don't. you think
I'm being good to you? I don't think you appreciate j it. Think of the glory
I'm helping you to grab for yourself. And now I'm going to give you some more.
By tomorrow, you'll have half the morning paper headlines all to yourself."
Fernack said suspiciously: "What's this?"
"In just a few minutes, any bright bull who walks into my suite here will be
able to pinch a couple of old-timers. Their names are Ricco Varetti and Cokey
Walsh. They will be trying to steal a very handsome piece of luggage from me,
and they might even be attempting some private unpleasantness on my person.
You've got their records, no doubt."
"I know 'em both. But what've they got to do with "
"You'll find out. Come on over and play someflagrante de-licto."
"I can't," Fernack said tormentedly. "I've got to go into court on another
case in just a few minutes."
"Then send someone else."
"Is this on the level?"
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"Word of honor."
After a second or two Fernack said: "I'll send Kestry and Bonacci. I think
you've met them."
The Saint had met them. The acquaintance dated back to the first episode in
which he had met Inspector Fernack, and it had been enlightening. The
recollection drew his mouth down in a tight line that still did not embitter
his eyes.
"I guess they can take care of the situation," he admitted. "As a matter of
fact, there must be very few situations in which those two goons couldn't take
care of themselves."
"I expect they can keep out of trouble," Fernack agreed with ponderous
deference. "But what are they supposed to hold Varetti and Walsh for?"
"I don't know what technical charge would be the worst they'd settle for,"
said the Saint, "but if they can't work out a good one on the spot, they must
have slipped a lot since I met them. And anyhow, I'm sure they'll be able to
do some great detecting in a back room with a rubber hose. Or has this [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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