The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

He shook his head.

"No. We haven't got one of those. Why not the front door? Are you ready?"

He handed her her bag, went out into the hall, and fetched in her valise. This he opened for her.

"Put on another hat," he said. "You must look or­dinary."

She nodded. In a couple of minutes she was ready; and they walked down the stairs together. At the foot of the stairs he stopped.

"Round there," he said, pointing, "you'll find a flight of steps to the basement. Wait just out of sight. When you hear me go up the stairs again, walk straight out of the front door and take a taxi to the Ritz. Stay there as Mrs. Joseph M. Halliday, of Boston. Mr. Joseph M. Halliday—myself—will arrive for breakfast at ten o'clock to­morrow morning."

"And Act Three?" she asked.         

"That," said the Saint serenely, "will be nothing but a brief brisk dialogue between Teal and me. Good-night, Jill."

He held out his hand. She took it.

"Simon, you're not only a darling—you're a bright boy."

"Just what Teal said," murmured the Saint. "Sleep well, Jill—and don't worry."

He left her there, and went and opened the front door.

The constable outside turned round alertly.

"Officer!" said the Saint anxiously.

He looked amazingly respectable; and the policeman relaxed.

"Yes, sir?"

"There seems to be something funny going on in the fiat below me——"

The constable came up the steps.

"Which floor are you on, sir?"

"Second."

The eyes of the law studied the Saint's nervous respect­ability with an intent stare; and then the finger of the law beckoned.

Simon followed the law outside; and the finger of the law pointed upwards. In the first-floor window, a sil­houette could be seen on a blind.

"In that flat below you, sir," said the law impressively, "there's a woman ooze wanted for murder."

Simon peered upwards.

"Why don't you arrest her?" he asked.

"Inspector's gone for a warrant," said the constable. "I'm keeping watch till he gets back. Now, what was it you heard in that flat, sir?"

"A sort of moaning noise," said the Saint sepulchrally.

"It's been going on for some time. Sounds as if someone was dying. I got anxious after a bit, and went down and rang the bell, but I couldn't get any answer."

"Listen," said the policeman.

They listened.

"Can't hear anything," said the policeman.

"You wouldn't, down here, with the window shut," said the Saint. "It's not very loud. But you can hear it quite clearly on the landing outside the flat."

"She's still sitting there, in that window," said the policeman.

They stared upwards, side by side.