The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

The Saint watched the door close behind them; and then he loafed back to the fireplace, lighted a cigarette, and stood there with his hands in his pockets.

"Only the epilogue is left," he said.

"And a joke to explain," said Jill Trelawney.

Simon regarded her with his cigarette in one corner of a smiling mouth and his eyebrows aslant—rather like a blue-eyed and boyish Mephistopheles. Suddenly she un­derstood all his charm.

"Most of it's explained," he said. "I was pulled into the Secret Service to keep me good, but the job never meant as much to me as it might have once. And then, when I was on the very point of quitting, your father's case developed into the Angels of Doom. I remember the night when I was talking it over with Auntie Ethel, and I was shown a photograph of you. And I made myself a promise."

She stood up and came towards the fireplace.

"What was it?"

"That you were a girl I was going to kiss before I died. And I did it halfway through the story, which spoils the ending; but even now——"

And suddenly, with his quick light laugh, he swept her into his arms and captured her red lips.

In a little while she said: "Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"

"No," said the Saint, "I've made a friend."

His arm lay lightly round her shoulders.

"I'm the fool who never grows old," he said. "But the manner of folly changes. Yesterday it was battle, murder, and sudden death; to-morrow—who knows? But while there's a boy you love waiting for you, and a song and a story for me—who cares? ..."

One moment he held her eyes, and then he swung round and picked up a newspaper that lay on a side table.

One swift glance down the page, and he was looking at the clock.          

"The Aquitania sails in seven hours," he said. "I can get you to Southampton with hours to spare; and then I can work a pull with the company. I'll guarantee you a berth——"

He read his answer in her face, and flung open the door.

"Orace!" he shouted, and his man came running. "Some sandwiches—a flask—coffee in the thermos. At the double! Is the Hirondel full up?"

"Yessir."       .

"Good enough."

He went through into the garage, and in another mo­ment the mighty car was roaring round to. pull up snort­ing at the front door. . . . And the Saint returned, as Mr. Teal, roused by the commotion, emerged from the back of the hall.

"Going away?" asked Teal.

"Just for a drive. . . . Jill, you'd better have a leather coat—take this one. ... That's the idea. . . . I'll take those things, Orace."