Knight Templar, or The Avenging Saint

CHAPTER FOURTEEN How Roger Conway was left alone, and Simon Templar went to his reward

1

THE SAINT'S GUN was back in his pocket; there was a splendid laughter in his eyes, and a more splendid laughter in his heart. And it was with the same laughter that he turned again to Marius.

'After all, Angel Face,' he said, 'we shall have our fight!'

And Marius did not answer.

'But not now, Saint!' Roger protested in an agony; and Simon swung round with another laugh and a flourish to go with it.

'Certainly not now, sweet Roger! That comes afterwards—with the port and cigars. What we're going to do now is jump for that blessed avion.'

'But where can we land? It must be a hundred miles to Croydon in a straight line. That'll take over an hour— after we've got going—and there's sure to be trouble at the other end ——'

'We don't land, my cherub. At least, not till it's all over. I tell you, I've got this job absolutely taped. I'm there!'

The Saint's cigarette went spinning across the room, and burst in fiery stars against the opposite wall. And he drew Roger and the girl towards him, with a hand on each of their shoulders.

'Now see here. Roger, you'll come with me, and help me locate and start up the kite. Sonia, I want you to scrounge round and find a couple of helmets and a couple of pairs of goggles. Angel Face's outfit is bound to be around the house somewhere, and he's probably got some spares. After that, find me another nice long coil of rope—I'll bet they've got plenty—and your job's done. Lessing,'—he looked across at the millionaire, who had risen to his feet at last—'it's about time you did something for your life. You find some stray bits of string, without cutting into the beautiful piece that Sonia's going to find for me, and amuse yourself splicing large and solid chairs onto Freeman, Hardy, and Willis over in the corner. Then they'll be properly settled to wait here till I come back for them. Is that all clear?'

A chorus of affirmatives answered him.

'Then we'll go,' said the Saint.

And he went; but he knew that all that he had ordered would be done. The new magnificent vitality that had come to him, the dazzling dare­devil delight, was summed up and blazoned to them all in the gay smile with which he left them; it swept them up, inspired them, kindled within them the flame of his own superb rapture; he knew that his spirit stayed with them, to spur them on. Even Lessing. . . .

And Roger. . . .

And Roger said awkwardly as they turned the corner of the house and went swiftly over the dark grassland: 'Sonia told me more about that cruise while you were away, Saint.'

'Did she now?'

'I'm sorry I behaved like I did, old boy.'

Simon chuckled.

'Did you think I'd stolen her from you, Roger?'

'Do you want to?' Roger asked evenly.

They moved a little way in silence.

Then the Saint said: 'You see, there's always Pat.'

'Yes.'

'I'll tell you something. I think, when she first met me, Sonia fell. I know I did—God help me— in a kind of way. I still think she's—just great. There's no other word for her. But then, there's no other word for Pat.'

'No.'

'More than once, it did occur to me —— But what's the use? There are all kinds of people in this wall-eyed world, and especially all kinds of women. They're just made different ways, and you can't alter it. I suppose you'll call that trite; but I give you my word, Roger, I had to go on that cruise last night before I really understood the saying. And so did Sonia. But I got more out of it than she did, because it was the sequel that was so frightfully funny, and I don't think she'll ever see the joke. I don't think you will, either; and that's another reason why ——'

'What was the joke?' Roger asked.

'When we met Hermann,' said the Saint, 'and Hermann pointed a gun at me, Sonia also had a gun. And Sonia didn't shoot. Pat wouldn't have missed that chance.' He stopped, and raised the lantern he carried. 'And that's our kite, isn't it?' he said.

A little way ahead of them loomed up the squat black shape of a small hangar. They reached it in a few more strides, and the Saint pulled back the sliding doors. And the aeroplane was there—a Gypsy Moth in silver and gold, with its wings demurely folded. 'Isn't this our evening?' drawled the Saint.

Roger said cautiously: 'So long as there's enough juice.'

'We'll see,' said the Saint, and he was already peering at the gauge. His murmur of satisfaction rang hollowly between the corrugated iron walls. 'Ten gallons. . . It's good enough!'

They wheeled the machine out together, and the Saint set up the wings. Then he hustled Roger into the cockpit and took hold of the propeller.

'Switch off—suck in!'

The screw went clicking round; then:

'Contact!'

'Contact!'

The engine coughed once, and then the propeller vibrated back to stillness. Again the Saint bent his back, and this time the engine stuttered round a couple of revolutions before it stopped again.

'It's going to be an easy start,' said the Saint. 'Half a sec. while I see if they've got any blocks.'

He vanished into the hangar, and returned in a moment with a couple of large .wooden wedges that trailed cords behind them. These he fixed under the wheels, laying out the cords in the line of the wings; then he went back to the propeller.

''We out to do it this time. Suck in again!''

Half a dozen brisk winds and he was ready.

'Contact!'

'Contact!'

A heaving jerk at the screw. . . . The engine gasped, stammered, hesitated, picked up with a loud roar. . . .

'Hot dog!' said the Saint.

He sprinted round the wing and leaped to the side, with one foot in the stirrup and a long arm reaching over to the throttle.

'Stick well back, Roger. . . . That's the ticket!'

The snarl of the engine swelled furiously; a gale of wind buffeted the Saint's face and twitched his coat half away from his shoulders. For a while he hung on, holding the throttle open, while the bellow of the engine battered his ears, and the machine strained and shivered where it stood; then he throttled back, and put his lips to Roger's ear.

'Hold on, son. I'll send Sonia out to you. Switch off the engine if she tries to run away.'

Roger nodded; and the Saint sprang down and disappeared. In a few moments he was back at the house, with the mutter of the engine scattered through the dark behind him; and Sonia Delmar was waiting for him on the doorstep.

'I've got all the things you wanted,' she said.

Simon glanced once at her burdens.

'That's splendid.' He touched her hand. 'Roger's out there, old dear. Would you like to take those effects out to him?'

'Sure.'