The Saint and the Hapsburg Necklace by Leslie Charteris, Christopher Short Read Free Book Online

of the drain’s being where it is. After all, only
country people know that agricul tural
fields are often drained by underground pipes. To most people a field is just a field and they never
think what goes on underneath it. For
another, no one would expect to have such a large drain in that
place unless they knew about the possibility of flooding in that particular
area because of the hills.”
    “But surely they must have seen the end which opens on to the river? One thing you must say for the Germans
is that they may be a bit plodding
and often thick-headed, but they’re always thorough.”
    Max shook his head vigorously.
    “No, it is highly unlikely, otherwise my
man would never have
got as far as he did. As I have told you, the exit is con cealed by rocks and is overgrown with bushes. The
farmers never had any reason to keep that end of the drain exposed. Flood waters coming down the pipe would spill out
over any thing or sweep it out of
their way. A few bushes and rocks would
make no difference once the waters had got that far, and if they did,
the peasants could always clear them away.”
    “Do tell me some more cosy reasons why
the drain is so ab solutely
safe for me to go into?” Simon smiled.
    Max smiled back at him.
    “The best reason is that it won’t be
you who goes through it first, it will be one of my men.”
    “And then his widow gets a pension, I
suppose,” said the Saint. “No, thank you. You’re just trying to get
out of this on the cheap—one widow to take care of instead of four. But I never
employ stunt men. If anyone goes through that man hole first, it’ll be
little me.”
    Frankie and Leopold had been listening all
this time in silence, Leopold with visible impatience, but leaving Annellatt to do all
the exposition. But now Frankie leaned for ward eagerly in the
chair she had taken.
    “Now you know all we can tell you,
Simon, you are still with us?”
    Simon had already made up his mind. He was,
after all, a gambler
at heart, albeit one who never took more chances than he had to. But your born gambler has to take some chances, and they are usually big ones. A toss of
a coin with death was the sort of
hazard that appealed most strongly to the
Saint.
    “I’m with you,” he said calmly.
“But I’d hate to break up a beautiful comradeship. If Max doesn’t accept
it, I’d be a bad risk.”
    Max Annellatt spread his hands generously.
    “I have accepted,” he said.
“I too do not want a bad risk. Now I think we should all go to my
country place. Would you go back to your hotel, please, Simon—pay
your bill and collect your things and come back here?”
    “Certainly,” Simon replied. “But I like sleeping
raw, and all I really need is a glass of
salt water to bung my false teeth into.”
    Frankie giggled.
    “I don’t imagine you have any
falsies,” she said.
    The Saint grinned at her.
    “I shall have to give you some lessons
in American slang,” he murmured. “But the same to you, and
thanks for the com pliment. I wish I could say thanks for the memory.
Perhaps I shall one day.”
    The girl looked mischievously pleased. In
spite of his youth, Leopold appeared about to have a stroke.
    “Why pay for a room if you’re not using
it?” Max argued practically. “Besides, it would be
better if you seemed to make a normal departure, instead of just
disappearing. Tell the hotel you are driving to Italy, which is the opposite
direction from where we shall be going.”
    “You seem to have forgotten,” Simon
remarked, “about the Gestapo boyos lurking outside.”
    “There is another way out of this
building,” Max told him, “through the former stables, which are now
garages, on to a different street, which the Gestapo should not have
discov ered yet. And I will lend you a car.”
    “Well, what about the car I came here
in?” Simon ob jected.
“It belongs to a friend of mine, and he’s rather attached to it.”
    “So much the better, if the papers are
not in your name. He