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

unostentatiously to a certain public house
in Aldgate. He was not noticed, for he had made some subtle
alterations to his appearance and bearing. One man, however, recognized him, and they moved over to a quiet corner of the bar.
    “Have they been in
touch with you again?” was the Saint’s immediate question.
    Mr. Dyson nodded.
    His right eye was still disfigured by a swollen
black-and- blue bruise. Mr. Dyson, thinking
it over subsequently, had decided
that ten pounds was an inadequate compen sation for the injury, but it was too late to reopen that discussion.      
    “They sent for me
yesterday,” he said. “I went at once, and
they gave me a very good welcome.”
    “Did you drink
it?” asked the Saint interestedly.
    “They’ve definitely
taken me on.”
    “And the news?”
    “It was like this …”
    Simon listened to a long
recital which told him nothing at all of any value, and
departed a pound poorer than he had been when he came. It was the highest
value he could place upon Mr. Dyson’s first
budget of information, and Slinky’s aggrieved pleading made no impression upon the Saint at all.”
    He got back to the Yard to
hear some real news.
    “Your Angels have
been out again while you weren’t watching them,” said
Cullis, as soon as the Saint had an swered his
summons. “Essenden was beaten up last night.”
    “Badly?”
    “Not very. The
servants were still about, and Essen den was able to let
off a yell which fetched them around in a bunch. The man got away. It seems
that Essenden found him in his bedroom when he went upstairs about eleven o’clock. He tried to tackle the man, and got
the worst of the fight. The burglar
was using a cosh.”
    “And who did the good
work?”
    “Probably your friend
Slinky. I’ve put a warrant out for him, anyway.”
    “Then take it
back,” said the Saint. “Slinky never used
a cosh in his life. Besides, I happen to know that he didn’t
do it.”
    “I suppose he told you
so?”
    “He didn’t—that’s
why I believe him. Have you had the report from Records
on the general features of the show?”
    “I’ve given them the
details. The report should be through any minute
now.”
    The report, as a matter of fact, was brought up
a few minutes later. The Saint ran through
the list of names submitted as possible authors of the crime, and
selected one without much hesitation.
    “Harry Donnell’s the
man.”
    “At Essenden’s?” interjected Cullis
skeptically, “Harry Donnell works the
Midlands. Besides, his gang don’t go in
for ordinary burglary.”
    “Who said it was an
ordinary burglary?” asked the Saint. “I tell you Harry Donnell’s the
man on that list who’d be most pleased to take on an
easy job of bashing like that. I could probably tell your
Records Office a few things they didn’t know
about Harry—you seem to forget that I used to know
everything there was to know about the various birds
in his line of business. I’m going to pull him
in. Before I go I’m going to tell Jill Trelawney that I’m going to do it.
I’ll go round and see her now. She’ll probably
try to fix me for some sticky end this time. But that’s a minor detail.
Having failed in that she’ll try to get on
the phone to Donnell and warn him—I expect he went back to Birmingham this morning. You’ll arrange
for the exchange operator to tell her that the line to Birmingham is out of order. Then, if I know anything about
Jill Tre lawney, she’ll set out to try to beat me to Birmingham Herself. She’s got to keep up her reputation for
rescues, especially when the man to be rescued is wanted for doing a job for her… .”
    He outlined his plan in
more detail.
    It was one which had come into
his head on the spur of the moment, but the more
he examined it the better it seemed to be. There was no evidence against
Jill Tre lawney on any of the scores which
were at present held against her, and the Saint would have been bored stiff to spend his time sifting over