Saint Errant by Leslie Charteris Read Free Book Online

celebrates Pale Hecate’s offerings, and wither’d murder, Alarum’d by his sentinel-“
    “No, no, no!” moaned the anguished voice of Stratford Keane, further off in the hollow of the empty auditorium. “I can’t stand it! Belden, you’re beating those lines with a club! A bludgeon!”
    “Oh, dry up,” Iris Freeman said, from the stage. “I think Mark is doing wonderfully.”
    Stratford Keane’s groan reverberated like the plaint of a wounded bull.
    “You think! Ye gods, what have I done to deserve this? I, Stratford Keane, who have striven all my life to learn under standing and patience! Even Job was at last tried too far, and I am not Job… . You think Belden is doing wonderfully.
    That is too much. You may direct this play, Miss Freeman.” His voice was louder but still further off. “I resign. I’m through!”
    In the distance a door slammed.
    There was an uneasy silence on the stage for a few moments, and then Iris Freeman said with weary disgust: “Oh, for crying out loud! Again?”
    “Exit Stratford, pursued by a bear,” Belden said sepulchrally.
    And then suddenly the voice of Stratford Keane boomed out again with remarkable verisimiltude: “Ye gods, what have I done to deserve this? I, Stratford Keane, who have striven all my life to learn understanding and patience!”
    There was a general chorus of laughter.
    Patricia’s fingers tightened on the Saint’s arm.
    “Simon! Did you notice-“
    “Stratford didn’t really do him justice,” said the Saint.
    On the stage, Iris Freeman was saying: “Better run along kids. You’ll probably be called back as usual after Mr Keane cools off.”
    In a little while the footsteps and voices of the rest of the cast died away and the theater was silent again. The Saint held Patricia motionless in the shadows. Then Iris Freeman spoke again with a rather tired relaxation.
    “You know, Mark, this sometimes seems like doing it the hard way.”
    “Don’t worry, honey,” Belden said. “As soon as I collect a few more touches with the dope you’re giving me about the people who’ve used Rick in their various operations-why, I’ll be all set to back the show myself. Then you can divorce him and we can be married.”
    “But suppose something goes wrong. And if Rick “ever find out-“
    “How can he? And if anything ever does go wrong, the Saint gets it in the neck. Don’t forget we’ve got that piece of paper now with his signature and his fingerprints all over it. We can type anything we like over his name and plant it where it’ll do the most good.”
    Simon Templar gently released Patricia and strolled out onto the stage. He was cool and unhurried, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he moved, so easy and natural that the shock of his entrance only held the other two in a kind of misty trance.
    “That’s a great idea, children,” he murmured, “only it doesn’t solve any of my problems.” His voice sharpened suddenly as Belden started to come out of his freeze. “Don’t try anything, Mark. I want you to be able to talk when Lieutenant Kearney gets here. Pat, do you think you could find a phone?”
    “Don’t bother,” Kearney said.
    His angular figure emerged from the shadows on the other side of the stage, and Mark Belden watched him approach in a new and even deeper trance from which even the click of a handcuff on his wrist did not arouse him.
    Iris Freeman was less ready to give up. She struggled furiously for one hectic moment before Kearney snapped the other cuff on her wrist, where it made a tasteful contrast with her jewel bracelets.
    “You can’t do this to me,” she panted.
    “I can try my best,” said the detective. “From what I heard, it sounds like a clear case of conspiracy to me.”
    “Don’t let it get you down, darling,” said the Saint. “Cross your legs on the witness stand, and the jury will probably see everything your way. On the other hand, I’m afraid Rick may not be so easy.”
    What