The Saint in Action (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

9

The Saint’s lighter flared in the darkness, catching the exultant glint in his eyes under impudently slanted brows. When the light went out and left only the glow-worm point of his cigarette, it was as if something vital and commanding had been abruptly snatched away, leaving an irreparable void, but out of the void his voice spoke with the gay lilt of approaching climax.

“That’s even better,” he said. “Then we don’t have to go to Lulworth…”

“You must be disappointed,” Peter said sympathetically. “After looking forward to being shot up with a machine-gun—”

“This is easier,” said the Saint. “This is the fish sneaking out of the river a little way downstream and wriggling along the bank to bite the fisherman in the pants. Peter, I have a feeling that this is going to be Comrade Lasser’s unlucky day.”

“It might just as well have been any other day,” Peter objected. “He isn’t any unknown quantity. He’s in the telephone book. Probably he’s in Who’s Who as well. You could find out everything about him and all his habits, and choose your own time—”

“You couldn’t choose any time like this! Just because he is supposed to be such a respectable citizen, his pants would be a tough proposition to bite. Can you imagine us trying to hold him up in his own baronial halls, or taking him for a ride from the Athenaeum Club? Why, he could call on the whole of Scotland Yard, including Chief Inspector Teal, not to mention the Salvation Army and the Brigade of Guards, to rally round and look after him if we tried anything. But this is different. Now he isn’t a pillar of Society and Industry, surrounded by bishops and barons. He’s in bad company, with a machine-gun party waiting for us at East Lulworth—and while he’s waiting for news from them he’s sitting up at Gad Cliff House, on top of the biggest store of contraband that the Revenue never set eyes on. We’ve got him with the goods on him, and this is where we take our chance!”

Peter Quentin shrugged.

“All right,” he said philosophically. “I’d just as soon take my chance at this house as take it with a machine-gun. Lead on, damn you.”

Mr Uniatz cleared his throat, producing a sound like the eruption of a small volcano. The anxiety that was vexing his system could be felt even if it could not be seen. Ever a stickler for detail once he had assimilated it, Mr Uniatz felt that one important item was being overlooked in the flood of ideas that had recently been passing over his head.”

“Boss,” said Mr Uniatz lucidly, “de skoit.”

“What about her?” asked the Saint.

“She didn’t look to me like she had no bottles in her braseer.”

“She hadn’t.”

“Den why—”

“We’re giving her a rest, Hoppy. This is another guy we’re going to see.”

“Oh, a guy,” said Mr Uniatz darkly. “Den how come he’s wearin’ a—”

“He’s funny that way,” said the Saint hastily. “Now let’s have a look at the lie of the land.

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