The Saint Bids Diamonds by Leslie Charteris Read Free Book Online

up when Hoppy and Christine arrived. Simon went back to his own room then returned to the bedside with a couple of tiny white tablets and a glass of water.
    “Will you take these?” he said. “They’ll help you to rest.”
    He supported the old man’s head while he drank the water, and laid him gently back. Vanlinden looked up at him.
    “You’ve been kind,” he said. “And I am tired.”
    “Tomorrow you’ll be crowing like a fighting cock,” said the Saint.
    He took Hoppy by the arm and drew him out of the room; but as soon as he turned away from the bed, the cheerfulness went out of his face. There was no doubt that Joris Vanlinden was an old man, old not only in body but also in mind; and Simon knew that, in that subtle process which is called growing old, the hopelessness of the last four years must have played more than their full part. What would be the effect of that night’s beating on the old man’s ebbing vitality? And how much more would the crowning blow of the stolen ticket drain from his failing strength?
    Simon sat on the rail of the veranda and smoked down half an inch of his cigarette, quietly considering the questions. They were still unanswered when he forced his mind away from them. He pointed to the room.
    “When you go back in there, Hoppy,” he said, “lock the door and put the key in your pocket and keep it there. Don’t let anybody in or out till I come round in the morning-not even yourself, unless you have to call me during the night.”
    “Okay, boss.”
    Mr Uniatz struck a match and relighted as much of his cigar as he had not yet eaten. He looked at the Saint with an expression which in anyone else might have been called reflective.
    “Dis lottery ticket,” he said. “It must be woit plenty.”
    “It is, Hoppy. It’s worth two million dollars.”
    “Chees, boss —” Mr Uniatz counted on his fingers. “What I couldn’t do wit’ five hundred grand!”
    Simon frowned at him.
    “What do you mean-five hundred grand?”
    “I t’ought ya might make dat my end, boss. De last time, ya cut me in two bits on de buck. Half a million for me an’ one an’ a half for you. Or is dat too much?” said Hoppy wistfully.
    “Let’s work it out when we get it,” said the Saint shortly; and then the door opened and Christine came out.
    She nodded in answer to his question.
    “He’s asleep already,” she said. And then: “I don’t see why I should turn your friend out of his bed. I can sleep in a chair and keep an eye on Joris quite easily.”
    “Good Lord, no,” said the Saint breezily. “Hoppy can sleep anywhere. He sleeps on his feet most of the day. You can’t even tell the difference until you get used to him. If Joris wants anything, Hoppy will fix it; and if Hoppy can’t fix it he’ll call me; and if it’s anything serious I’ll call you. But you need all the rest you can get, the same as Joris.”
    He pushed Hoppy gently but firmly away towards his vigil and unlocked the other room with the key he had taken from downstairs. He switched on the lights and followed her in, locking the door after him and taking the key out to give to her.
    “Keep it like that-just in case of accidents. It’s not so much for tonight as for tomorrow, in case Graner and company get up early. You can lock the communicating door on your side.”
    He unlocked it and went through into his own room to rake a dressing gown out of his suitcase. When he turned round she had followed him. He hung the robe over her arm.
    “It’s the best I can do,” he said. “I’m afraid my pajamas would be a bit loose on you, but you can have some if you like. Can you think of anything else ?”
    “Have you got a spare cigarette?”
    He took a packet off the dressing table and gave it to her.
    “So if that’s all we can do for you —”
    She didn’t make a move to go. She stood there with her hands in the pockets of her light coat and the dressing gown looped over her arm, looking at him with dried