Enter the Saint (The Saint Series) by Charteris Leslie

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

7

“That,” said the Saint, “should be the place.”

He lay full length in the long damp grass, peering over the crest of a convenient hummock at the house.

When you have as extensive a wardrobe as the Saint’s, you can afford to maltreat a Savile Row poem in light grey fresco by stretching it out full length in long damp grass. Roger Conway, mindful of the dignity of his police uniform, contented himself with sinking to a squatting position. The girl was a little way behind them.

They could see the cottage, a stumpy black bulk in the moonlight, with two windows sharply cut out in yellow luminance. The sky was as clear as a bowl of dark glass, and in spite of Mr Dyson’s confident assurance, the fragment of moon that rode low down in the sky had been less help to them in their journey than the stars. A mile out, just off the road, the Desurio was parked with all its lights out.

The Saint squirmed down a little so that the flame of his match would not be visible to any watchers outside the cottage, and lighted a cigarette in his cupped hands.

“We might as well start now,” he murmured. “Where’s the girl?”

They crept back together to rejoin her.

“On the mark, kid?”

A clammy breath of wind had been born on the moor. She shivered in her thin coat.

“The sooner you get it over, the better I’ll be pleased.”

“You’ll soon be happy,” said the Saint.

His teeth gleamed in a smile—it was all they could distinguish of his expression in the gloom. But the faint tremor of eagerness in his voice was perceptible without the aid of eyes.

“All got your pieces ready to say?” he asked.

She said, nervously, “I don’t know what I’ve got to do—”

“Nor would you if you’d really been kidnapped. That’s your piece. Anyhow, you’re supposed to be dead to the world, having assimilated the second instalment of that syringeful. Roger, you’ve got your gun?”

Conway slapped his pocket for answer.

“Haven’t you got a gun, Saint?” asked the girl.

Simon was heard to chuckle softly.

“Ask Roger if I ever carry guns,” he said. “No—I leave them to other people. Personally, I can’t stand the noise. I have my own copyright armoury, which is much more silent—and just as useful. So we’re ready?”

“Yes.”

“Fine! Roger, we expect you to make your dramatic entrance in ten minutes. S’long.”

“So long. Saint…So long, Betty!”

Roger felt for the girl’s hand and gave it a reassuring pressure. A moment later he was alone.

The Saint, with one arm round the girl’s waist to steady her, picked their way over the uneven ground with the uncanny surefootedness of a cat. It was dark enough for his clothes to be unnoticeable. He wore Mr Dyson’s soft hat pulled well down over his eyes, and he had turned up the collar of his coat to assist the crude disguise. Even before they were near the cottage, he was walking with knees bent and shoulders stooped so as to approximate more to the height of Mr Dyson.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.