Trust the Saint by Leslie Charteris

Author:Leslie Charteris [Charteris, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9780340022870
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 1962-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THE

INTEMPERATE

REFORMER

THE INTEMPERATE REFORMER

Copyright © 1961 by Fiction Publishing Company

Simon Templar watched with a remorselessly calculating eye the quantity of caviar that was being spooned on to his plate, with the eternal-springing hope that this would intimidate the head waiter into serving a more than normally generous portion, and said: "If I had to answer such a silly question as why I want to be rich, I'd say it was so I could afford to eat those unhatched sturgeon twice a day. There must be some moral in the thought that they're considered the national delicacy of Russia, the self-styled protector of the under-privileged."

He waved away the tray of minced onion and chopped whites and yolks of eggs proffered by a lesser servitor, and signalled the wine steward who waited near by with a frosted bottle.

"Romanoff caviar and Romanoff vodka—what a wonderful proletarian combination!"

"I always did like your ideas of the simple life," said Monty Hayward comfortably.

The Saint piled a small mound of black grains on a thin slice of brown toast, tasted it reverently, and raised his glass.

"I read somewhere that the scientists have discovered a rare vitamin in caviar which greatly increases the human system's ability to stand up to alcohol—I'm not kidding," he remarked. "I suppose the Russians, who always claim to have discovered everything, would say that they knew this all along. That's why they put away so much of this stuff at their banquets. Well, don't quote me to the FBI, but I prefer this to the American excuse for vodka-tippling."

"And what's that?" Monty asked unguardedly.

"The sales pitch that it doesn't change the flavor of whatever slop you dilute it with; and that it doesn't taint your breath—so that if you wreck a few cars on the way home, and you can still stand up, the cops presumably won't dream you've been drinking. This may be predicated on the erroneous assumption that cops can't read advertisements, too, but I suppose it gives some people confidence. I shall let you drive us home, Monty. Na zdorovye!"

"Here's to crime," Monty said.

Simon regarded him affectionately.

They were dining at the East Arms at Hurley, a onetime English country pub which was its own sufficient answer to some of the old traditional gibes at British gas-tronomical facilities, and it was their first reunion in many years. It was a very far cry from the days when Monty Hayward had sometimes found himself involved in the fringes of the Saint's lawless activities, and in particular had been embroiled in one incredible adventure which had whirled them across Austria and Bavaria in a fantastic flight that may still be remembered by senior students of these chronicles.

"It's been a long time, Monty," said the Saint. "And now you're a Director of the Consolidated Press, with an expense account and a chauffeured limousine and all the trimmings, and you wouldn't get mixed up in any of my shenanigans for anything. Don't you ever get tired of this awful respectability?"

"Never," declared Monty firmly. "It's too nice to be able to look a policeman in the eye.

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.