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mystery of what it was all about remained. But the eccentric philanthropist
who was willing to pay ten thousand pounds for the life of a blister like
Ginger-head might offer some more hints on that subject.
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He understood the ginger-haired man s psychology to three places of decimals.
Whatever the outcome of this interview might be, the waiting accomplice would
at least learn what had happened to his confederate; and Ginger Whiskers was
doubtless banking far more heavily on the advantages of getting this message
through than on the Saint s desire to help him. If their positions had been
reversed, the Saint would have gambled on the same horse. But before that bet
was decided he hoped to become much wiser himself-he had forgotten that in
certain circles he was one of the best-known men in England.
The trip meter on the dash was just turning over the third mile from Seaton
when he picked up a red light stationary by the side of the road. As his
headlights drew nearer to it he saw that it was the rear light of a small
saloon of a popular make. He dimmed his lights and pulled in just in front of
it; and a man came up, walking with quick jerky steps. Is that you,
Garthwait?
Simon gathered that this was the name by which Ginger was known to the
police. He hunched his shoulders and tried to remember Garthwait s rasping
voice. Yes.
The light of a powerful torch was flashed on his face, and he heard the
unknown man s hissing breath.
At least, he said quickly, Garthwait sent me
Mr. Simon Templar, isn t it? said the other gently. I know your face quite
well.
For a moment the Saint almost recanted his views on the lavish publicity
which the newspapers had given to some of his exploits, although for many
years that disreputable fame had been one of his most modest vanities. But he
smiled.
You do know your way around, don t you, dear old bird? he remarked.
That is my business, said the other dryly, as if he was making a very
subtle joke. Please keep your hands on the steering wheel, where I can see
them. I ve got you covered, my friend, and I could shoot you long before you
could reach your gun.
His voice had a dusty pedantic quality which was the last intonation Simon
Templar would ever have expected from a man who spoke of unlawful armaments
and sudden death with so much self-possession.
You re welcome, said the Saint amiably. My life is insured, and I m
considered to be an A. 1 risk. I wish I could say the same for Comrade
Garthwait. There seems to be some sort of idea that he would be Good for
Contented Congers; but he said you d pay ten thousand pounds to keep him on
dry land, and I thought it might be worth looking into. I suppose love is
blind, but what you can see in a wall-eyed
wart like that
Where is Garthwait?
When I saw him last, he was gagged up and tied together with wire,
meditating about the After Life. Where was this? In the Old House. The
hotel?
Oh, no, said the Saint carefully. It was too risky to keep him there.
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Don t you know the Old House?
The man behind the flashlight did not pursue the subject. And he told you
I d give you ten thousand pounds to let him out?
That s what he said. I m afraid I thought he was a bit optimistic at the
time, but I didn t like to discourage him.
After all, when there s so much money at stake
How do you know that? asked the other sharply. The Saint smiled. Garthwait
told me. Did he tell you about last night s job? Yes, he told me that,
too, answered Simon coolly, and knew in the next instant that he had made a
fatal mistake- the man he was talking to was as alive to all the tricks of the
trade as he was himself.
That s interesting, said the dry stilted voice, because there was never
any such thing as last night s job. You had better get out of that car, Mr.
Templar. If Garthwait is really in danger, it would doubtless be diminished if
your friends knew that you were in a similar predicament.
Simon thought very swiftly. He had set out cheerfully to try his luck, and
the luck had gypped him very neatly. At the same time, he couldn t let it have
everything its own way. In a kindly and impartial spirit, he reviewed the pros
and cons of the not so philanthropic philanthropist s suggestion for
continuing the game, and decided that it lacked any really boisterous humour. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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