Saint and the Fiction Makers by Leslie Charteris Read Free Book Online Page A

stages in the game would be finding out just where to find Amos Klein.’
    Amity shook her head. Her eyes narrowed.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ she said very thoughtfully. ‘I think the real answer might be much weirder than that.’
    ‘Well?’
    Amity bit her thumbnail, completely absorbed in her musing.
    ‘I wonder …’ she said.
    The Saint shifted his weight impatiently.
    ‘So do I. Button, button, who’s got the button?’
    ‘Just a minute,’ Amity said.
    She broke off her introspection and suddenly got to her feet. Going to the desk, she threw open one of the drawers and began burrowing through a deep and disordered pile of papers.
    ‘Bury a bone?’ Simon said.
    ‘A letter. There.’
    Triumphantly, she drew a sheet of paper out of the chaos. Attached to the paper was a cheque. She handed it to Simon, who glanced at the amount of the cheque before reading the letter.
    ‘Fifty thousand pounds,’ he said in the appreciative tone of a connoisseur of currency in all its forms.
    ‘Before you get excited, read the letter,’ Amity Little told him.
    ‘Dear Mr. Klein … enclosed is a cheque for fifty thousand pounds, being half payment for your writing services, which we are most anxious to acquire. Period of employment, two months. Balance of payment on completion. The work will be secret, most challenging, and is guaranteed to be to your taste. Your cashing this cheque will be regarded as full acceptance of the contract as stated above, whereupon you will be contacted and given further instructions.’ The Saint’s reaction at the large black flourished signature showed only a moment’s beat before he read it aloud. ‘Warlock.’
    He looked inquiringly and unbelievingly at Amity Little, who nodded confirmation.
    ‘Warlock,’ she repeated. ‘The arch villain in my Charles Lake books. And look underneath the name.’ She looked over Simon’s shoulder and moved the tip of a slim finger along the word as she spelled out the block capitals in which it was printed. ‘S.W.O.R.D.’
    ‘Your fictional organization for world evil.’
    ‘Secret World Organization for Retribution and Destruction. And Warlock’s the boss.’
    ‘You actually got this in the mail?’ Simon asked.
    ‘Yes. Forwarded by Finlay. He sends mail on addressed to Amos Klein unopened.’
    Simon looked at the date of the letter.
    ‘You got it a month ago?’
    ‘Approximately.’
    ‘What have you done about it?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘How could you resist?’
    ‘Cashing the cheque, you mean?’
    ‘Not necessarily,’ Simon said. ‘But at least trying to find out something about where it came from.’
    ‘Well, for one thing it gave me the creeps,’ Amity Little replied.
    ‘Understandably. It must be a bit like seeing yourself walk in the door.’
    ‘Yes. And I’m pretty tied down by the fact that I can’t let anybody know who I am. Of course I don’t have a bank account in the name of Amos Klein.’
    ‘Didn’t you even call the bank this is drawn on?’
    ‘Why?’
    The Saint studied the cheque more closely as he answered.
    ‘To see if anyone really has an account in the name of Warlock.’
    Amity tossed the idea off with a sweeping gesture.
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous! There isn’t any Warlock, except in my head. Obviously whoever sent this is some sort of nut!’
    The Saint held up his hand for silence, and turned his head to listen.
    ‘Who may be coming up your drive right now,’ he said softly.
    2
    ‘I don’t hear anything,’ Amity Little said.
    ‘I have rather exceptional hearing,’ the Saint said. ‘Let’s have a look out of the front windows.’
    She led him through the house to one of the heavily draped windows in the dining room.
    ‘You mean that car?’ she whispered, listening. ‘I hear them turning around in my drive all the time. I’m at the end of the lane, so it’s the natural place.’
    Simon had edged a curtain aside enough to peer out.
    ‘Do they often have blue lights flashing?’ he