Андрей Л.Рюмин: 03 Enter the Saint

"You've heard all you need to know," he said. "I am the Saint. Remember me in your prayers. And when you've got the yacht to a port, and you're faced with the problem of accounting for all that's hap­pened to your passengers-remember me again. Because to-morrow morning every port in the Mediterranean will be watching for you, and on every quay there'll be detectives waiting to take you away to the place where you belong. So remember the Saint!" And Simon Templar roused the engine of the seaplane and began to taxi over the water as the first shot spat out from the yacht's deck and went whining over the sea.

A week later, Chief Inspector Teal paid another visit to Brook Street. "I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Templar,".he said. "You'll be interested to hear that Indomitable picked up the Corsican Maid as she was trying to slip through the Straits last night. They didn't put up much of a scrap."

"You don't say!" murmured the Saint mockingly. "But have some beer."

Mr. Teal sank ponderously into the chair. "Fat men," he declined, "didn't ought to drink-if you won't be offended. But listen, sir-what happened to the girl who was the leader of the gang? And what happened to the jewels?"

"You'll hear to-day," said the Saint happily, "that the jewels have been received by a certain London hospital. The owners will be able to get them back from there, and I leave the reward they'll contribute to the hospital to their own consciences. But I don't think public opinion will let them be stingy. As for the money that was collected in cash, some twenty-five thousand dollars. I-er-well, that's difficult to trace, isn't it?"

Mr. Teal nodded sleepily. "And Audrey Perowne, alias the Countess Anusia Marova?"

"Were you wanting to arrest her?"

"There's a warrant-"

The Saint shook his head sadly. "What a waste of time, energy, paper, and ink! You ought to have told me that before. As it is, I'm afraid I-er-that is, she was packed off three days ago to a country where extradition doesn't work-I'm afraid I shouldn't know how to intercept her. Isn't that a shame?"

Teal grimaced. "However," said the Saint, "I un­derstand that she's going to reform and marry and settle down, so you needn't worry about what she'll do next."

"How do you know that?" asked Teal suspiciously.

The Saint's smile was wholly angelic. He flung out his hand.

"A little Dicky bird," he said musically, "a little Dicky bird told me so this morning."

(bm)