Salvage for the Saint by Leslie Charteris Read Free Book Online Page A

asked the Coroner.
    “The same.”
    The Coroner sniffed, and made a nervous adjustment to the knot of the spotted tie which left it in exactly the same position as before.
    “Mr Templar, your reputation is well known. You have often been described as a common criminal, and I have to say that you are by no means the sort of witness with whom I should have preferred to have to deal in this court.”
    The Saint smiled. He didn’t intend losing sight of the seriousness of the occasion, but the opportunity was too good to miss.
    “That’s quite all right,” he replied generously. “To be frank, you’re by no means my favourite type of coroner, either.”
    There was a brief eruption of laughter, started by a couple of reporters. The Coroner glared at them and went three shades pinker. The Adam’s apple and spotted tie wiggled as he struggled to get control of himself.
    “However,” he went on, heroically abstaining from comment on the Saint’s riposte, “I am told that your knowledge of power-boating matters is sound, Mr Templar, and I understand that you and vour co-driver Mr … ah … Cullen were the first on the scene after the explosion.”
    “That is correct,” agreed the Saint in a businesslike tone.
    “I have here your eyewitness report, taken by the police at the time.” The Coroner indicated the document in front of him. “Perhaps you will help us by expanding on one or two points.”
    “If I can,” said the Saint.
    “One thing puzzles me in particular. Mr Tatenor’s boat suddenly changed course and began heading for the beach at …”—the Coroner peered at the papers— “… Hengistbury Head. You and Mr Cullen could hardly help being aware of this sudden turn, since the boat cut right across your own course.”
    “Correct.”
    The Coroner leaned forward.
    “But having changed course in that abrupt manner, the boat then continued in the new direction, still heading straight for the shore, for a distance of approximately half a mile?”
    “As you say—approximately.”
    “Does that not seem to you a little odd, Mr Templar?”
    It seemed to the Saint decidedly odd, but he hadn’t the slightest conscience about pretending otherwise to the Coroner.
    “Not in the least odd,” he said in a tone of conviction.
    “But how would you explain it?”
    “What seems to me the most likely explanation,” Simon lied, picking his words with care, “is that the boat hit a big wave, and that as a result both men lost their footing, hit their heads and were knocked cold.”
    “Leaving no one at the wheel?”
    “That’s right. It could easily happen. It was a very choppy sea.”
    “But with nobody at the wheel,” persisted the Coroner, “wouldn’t you have expected the boat to follow a rather erratic course, instead of travelling a good half mile or more in a straight line?”
    It was a question the Saint had expected and one that had, somehow, to be answered. He took a deep breath.
    “I suggest,” he said with a magnificent airy confidence that made everything seem much simpler than it was in his real thoughts on the matter, “that one of those unconscious bodies became slumped or wedged against the wheel just after they hit the big wave. The rudder would probably have found its approximate straight-ahead position very quickly in any case, on the principle of least resistance, and the wheel would have gone back with it, rather like the wheels of a car straighten up and take the steering wheel back after you round a bend. If one of the two men then fell against the Candecour’s wheel, as I think must have happened, that would have kept the boat on a roughly straight-ahead course.”
    “Thank you, Mr Templar.”
    There was a begrudging note in the Coroner’s voice but he continued to nod sagely as if to imply that of course he had seen all this for himself and now had come to the really difficult question. He posed it triumphantly.
    “Yet, just before the impact, according to your evidence,