11 The Brighter Buccaneer

He picked up a handful of the notes, peered at them mi­nutely, screwed them in his fingers, and put them down again rather abruptly and experimentally, as if he were trying to discover whether putting temptation from him would bring a glow of conscious virtue that would compensate for the worldly loss. Apparently the experiment was not very satisfac­tory, for his mouth puckered wistfully.

"You've told me all about yourself," said Benny, "and about your wife being delicate and needing to go away for a long sea voyage. I expect there's trouble about getting your children a proper education that you haven't mentioned at all. You're welcome to put all that right. You can buy just as many of these notes as you like, and twenty pounds per hundred is the price to you. That's exactly what they cost me in getting the special paper and inks and having them printed--the man I found to print 'em for me gets a big rake-off, of course. Four shillings each is the cost price, and you can make yourself a millionaire if you want to."

Mr. Tombs gulped audibly.

"You're-you're not pulling" my leg, are you?" he stammered pathetically.

"Of course I'm not. I'm glad to do it." Benny stood up and placed one hand affectionately on Mr. Tombs's shoulders. "Look here, I know all this must have been a shock to you. It wants a bit of getting used to. Why don't you go away and think it over? Come and have lunch with me again tomorrow, if you want some of these notes, and bring the money with you to pay for them. Call me at seven o'clock and let me know if I'm to expect you." He picked up a small handful of money and stuffed it into Mr. Tombs's pocket. "Here-take some samples with you and try them on a bank, just in case you still can't believe it."

Mr. Tombs nodded, blinking.

"I'm the man in the taxi again," he said with a weak smile.

"When you really do find the wallet --"

"Who loses by it?" asked Benny, with gently persuasive rhetoric. "The Bank of England, eventually. I never learnt any economics, but I suppose they'll have to meet the bill. But are they going to be any the worse off for the few thousands you'll take out of them? Why, it won't mean any more to them than a penny does to you now. Think it over."

"I will," said Mr. Tombs, with a last lingering stare at the littered table.

"There's just one other thing," said Benny. "Not a word of what I've told you to any living soul-not even to your wife. I'm trusting you to treat it as confidentially as you'd treat anything in your insurance business. You can see why, can't you? A story like I've told you would spread like wildfire, and once it got to the Bank of England there'd be no more money in it. They'd change the design of their notes and call in all the old ones as quick as I can say it."

"I understand, Mr. Lucek," said Mr. Tombs.

He understood perfectly-so well that the rapturous tale he told to Patricia Holm when he returned was almost incoher­ent. He told her while he was removing his make-up and changing back into his ordinary clothes; and when he had finished he was as immaculate and debonair as she had ever seen him. And finally he smoothed out the notes that Benny had given him at parting, and stowed them carefully in his wallet. He looked at his watch.

"Let's go and see a show, darling," he said, "and then we'll buy a pailful of caviare between us and swill it down with a gallon of Bollinger. Brother Benjamin will pay!"

"But are you sure these notes are perfect?" she asked; and the Saint laughed.

"My sweetheart, every one of those notes was printed by the Bank of England itself. The green goods game is nothing like that; though I've often wondered why it hasn't been worked before in this-Gott in Himmel!"

Simon Templar suddenly leapt into the air with a yell; and the startled girl stared at him.

"What in the name of --"

"Just an idea," explained the Saint. "They sometimes take me in the seat of the pants like that. This is rather a beauty."

He swept her off boisterously to the promised celebrations without telling her what the idea was that had made him spring like a young ram with loud foreign oaths; but at seven o'clock punctually he found time to telephone the Park Lane Hotel.

"I'm going to do what the man in the taxi would do, Mr. Lucek," he said.

"Well, Mr. Tombs, that's splendid news," responded Benny."I'll expect you at one. By the way, how much will you be taking?"

"I'm afraid I can only manage to-um-raise three hundred pounds. That will buy fifteen hundred pounds' worth, won't it?"

"I'll make it two thousand pounds' worth to you, Mr. Tombs," said Benny generously. "I'll have it all ready for you when you come."

Mr. Tombs presented himself at five minutes to one, and although he wore the same suit of clothes as he had worn the previous day, there was a festive air about him to which a brand-new pair of white kid gloves and a carnation in his button-hole colourfully contributed.

"I handed in my resignation at the office this morning," he said. "And I hope I never see the place again."