The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

"That's one of the most sensible things I've heard you say," he remarked. "In fact, if you concentrated your attention on Waldstein you'd be doing yourself and every­one else much more good than you're doing at present. If your father was framed, Waldstein knows all about it. I'll tell you that. But what good you expect to do by simply making yourself a nuisance to the police force in general is more than my logical mind can see."

She pointed to the table.

"I suppose you've seen the papers?"

"We have. All about the inefficiency of the police. Of course, everybody doesn't know that I'm in charge of the situation. But does it give you the satisfaction you want?"

"It gives me some satisfaction."

"We are also amused," said Simon. "The chiefs of the C. I. D. meet together twice a day to roar with laughter over it. ... And I think that's all for today. I'll see you again soon. If you like, I'll drop you a line to say when I'm coming, so that you can arrange to be out."

"Perhaps," she said silkily, "you will not be in a posi­tion to come again. So you might save the stamp."

"That's all right," said the Saint easily. "I shouldn't have stamped the letter."

He stood up and picked up his hat, which he brushed carefully with his sleeve. She made no move to delay him.

At the door he turned for his parting shot.

"Just for information," he said, "is there going to be any trouble about my leaving this time?"

"No," she said quietly. "Not just now."

He smiled.

"Something else arranged, I suppose. Not machine guns, I hope. And no more poisoned milk. I don't want you to let yourself down by repeating yourself too often, you know."

"You won't be in suspense for long," she said.

"I'm glad to hear it," said the Saint, with intense ear­nestness. "Well,  bye-bye, old dear."

He strolled down the stairs, humming a little tune.

No one attempted to stop him. The hall was deserted. He let himself out and sauntered down Belgrave Street, swinging his stick.

As a bluffing interview it had not borne the fruit he had hoped for. Since their first encounters, the girl had recovered a great deal of the poise and self-control that his studied impudence had at first been able to flurry her into losing. On that occasion she had given nothing away of importance—only that she had an interest in Waldstein. This was perhaps one interest that Simon Templar shared with her wholeheartedly.

Chapter III

HOW  SIMON  TEMPLAR  MADE   A  SLIGHT ERROR,

AND PINKY BUDD MADE A BIG ONE