The Saint Meets His Match by Leslie Charteris Read Free Book Online Page A

the hope that you will think I’m bluffing and fall into the trap, or do you think I’m inventing the yarn to keep you away from a man I don’t want you to have? I can’t help
thinking that some of these questions are going to make life very difficult
for you for the next few days.”
    She tapped her cigarette
delicately on the edge of an ashtray.
    “Is that all you came
to say?” she asked patiently.
    “Not quite,”
said the Saint, in that tone of gentle mockery that would have been like
sandpaper rasped across the nerves of anyone less
self-possessed. “I just wanted to ask one
thing—about your father.”
    She faced him.
    “Haven’t I told
you,” she said dangerously, “to leave my father out of this?”
    “I know,” said
the Saint. “And I’ve told you that I shall bring
anyone into it whom I choose to bring in. So we know
where we are. And now listen to this. I’ve been making some inquiries about
your father, and I’ve come on a name which interests
me. It may mean something to you. The name
is—Waldstein.”
    She stared at him
narrowly.
    “Well?”
    The monosyllable dropped
like a flake of hot metal.
    “I thought you might
be after him,” said the Saint. “Do you mind
telling me if I’m right?”
    Slowly she nodded. .    “You’re quite right—Templar!”
    The Saint beamed.
    “That’s one of the
most sensible things I’ve heard you say,” he remarked. “In fact, if
you concentrated your attention on Waldstein you’d be doing yourself and every one else much more good than you’re doing at present. If your
father was framed, Waldstein knows all about it. I’ll tell you that. But what good you expect to do by simply making yourself a nuisance to the police
force in general is more than my logical mind can see.”
    She pointed to the table.
    “I suppose you’ve seen
the papers?”
    “We have. All about
the inefficiency of the police. Of course, everybody
doesn’t know that I’m in charge of the situation.
But does it give you the satisfaction you want?”
    “It gives me some
satisfaction.”
    “We are also
amused,” said Simon. “The chiefs of the C. I. D. meet together twice
a day to roar with laughter over it. … And I think that’s all for today. I’ll see you again soon. If you like, I’ll drop you a line to say when I’m coming,
so that you can arrange to be out.”
    “Perhaps,” she said silkily,
“you will not be in a posi tion to come
again. So you might save the stamp.”
    “That’s all
right,” said the Saint easily. “I shouldn’t have
stamped the letter.”
    He stood up and picked up
his hat, which he brushed carefully with his
sleeve. She made no move to delay him.
    At the door he turned for
his parting shot.
    “Just for information,”
he said, “is there going to be any trouble about my leaving this
time?”
    “No,” she said
quietly. “Not just now.”
    He smiled.
    “Something else
arranged, I suppose. Not machine guns, I hope. And no more
poisoned milk. I don’t want you to let yourself down
by repeating yourself too often, you know.”
    “You won’t be in
suspense for long,” she said.
    “I’m glad to hear
it,” said the Saint, with intense ear nestness.
“Well,   bye-bye, old dear.”
    He strolled down the
stairs, humming a little tune.
    No one attempted to stop
him. The hall was deserted. He let himself out and
sauntered down Belgrave Street, swinging his stick.
    As a bluffing interview it
had not borne the fruit he had hoped for. Since their
first encounters, the girl had recovered a great deal of
the poise and self-control that his studied impudence had
at first been able to flurry her into losing. On that
occasion she had given nothing away of importance—only
that she had an interest in Waldstein. This was
perhaps one interest that Simon Templar shared with her
wholeheartedly.
    Chapter III
    HOW   SIMON   TEMPLAR   MADE    A   SLIGHT ERROR,
    AND PINKY BUDD MADE A BIG ONE
     
    Two days later, Simon
Templar went