The Saint Bids Diamonds (The Saint Series) by Charteris Leslie

Author:Charteris, Leslie [Charteris, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2014-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

2

“You’re a fool,” Palermo said thickly.

“We can’t all have your brains,” said the Saint deprecatingly. “Besides, you need a few compensations, with a face like yours.”

The greenish glow darkened in Palermo’s eyes, but he made no immediate reply. He beckoned to Aliston with his other hand without looking round.

“Tie his hands behind his back.”

Aliston detached himself from the door and undulated into the kitchenette. Simon heard him moving about and surmised that he was removing the washing from the line. The Saint went on smoking unconcernedly and measured the distance to Palermo’s chin. It was about five feet, with Palermo sitting where he was, and besides that there was the corner of the table to get round. He slipped one hand under the table and tested its weight speculatively, but Palermo felt the infinitesimal movement.

“Keep your hands on top of the table.”

Aliston came back from his errand, and Palermo took the cigar out of his mouth and put it back again.

“Put your hands behind the back of the chair,” he said.

Simon took a final pull from his cigarette and put it carefully down before he obeyed. Aliston worked silently at tying his wrists together. He used all the rope, and the knots felt tight. When he had finished, Palermo put his automatic away and came round and tested them.

“How do they feel to you, Art?” Simon enquired genially. “I think he did pretty well—he must have learnt some tricks when he was at crochet school.”

The girl sat on the other side of the table, watching them stupidly. Palermo strolled back and jerked his head at her.

“Make a spoon hot on the fire,” he said. “Make it red-hot—tú comprendes?”

The girl stared at him blankly, and Palermo thumped his fist on the table.

“Tú has oído?” he snarled.

Aliston’s face twitched nervously as the girl hurried out. He had turned several shades whiter, so that the graze that ran up his left cheek showed more vividly against the sickly pallor of his skin. He opened his mouth once or twice, as if he was on the point of protesting, and closed it again without saying anything, as if he had already heard the inevitable answers.

“I…I think I’d better go and look for that taxi,” he said at last. “We don’t want to waste any more time.”

“All right,” said Palermo contemptuously. “I’ll get all we want out of this guy.”

Aliston flushed and went white again. His mouth opened and closed once more, like a fish, and then he swallowed and went quickly to the door. Palermo watched it close behind him and turned back to the Saint with a short laugh.

“Cecil’s a good boy,” he said. “But he’s too soft-hearted. That’s the trouble with him. Soft-hearted.”

“I take it that that’s one thing you don’t suffer from, Art,” said the Saint softly.

Palermo chewed his cigar and looked down at him.

“Me? No. I’m not that way at all. Don’t kid yourself, Tombs. I get what I want, and I don’t care who gets hurt while I’m getting it.

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