'Then what are you going to do?'
'That also has been arranged--I think, very neatly. We will deal with it at once.'
He led the way out of the laboratory and across the corridor. After unlocking Betty Tregarth's door he knocked, and they went in.
Betty Tregarth was sitting in the chair by the fire, reading, but she looked up listlessly at their entrance.
'Oh, it's you,' she said dully.
Raxel came over and stood in front of the fire. 'I have come to tell you that you have now served your purpose, Miss Tregarth,' he said, 'and there is nothing to stop your departure as soon as you choose to go. I promised you one thousand pounds for your services, and I'll write you a check for that amount now.'
He did so, sitting down at the table. She took the check and looked at it without interest.
'Now,' he said, replacing the cap on his fountain pen, 'I wonder what your plans are?'
'I haven't made any,' said the girl, in a tired 1 voice. 'I don't know what I'm going to do.'
'I understand,' said the Professor sympathetically. 'That was a difficulty in your path which occurred to me shortly after you'd started work, and I have given it a good deal of thought. In fact, I have prepared a solution which I should like to offer you. You may accept or reject it, as you please, but I beg you to give it your consideration.' She shrugged.
'You can tell me what it is.'
'I suggest that you should leave the country, and start life afresh,' said Raxel. 'The thousand pounds which I have given you will provide you with enough capital to last you for several months, and that should give you plenty of time to find fresh employment. With your qualifications that should be fairly easy.'
'But where am I to go?'
'I suggest that you go to America. In fact, I have taken the liberty of booking a first-class passage for you on the Megantic, which sails from Southampton early to-morrow morning. You may, of course, decline to go, but I think you would be wise to take it.'
The girl spread out her hands in a weary gesture.
'America's as good as any other place,' she said. 'But I haven't got my passport down here, and there isn't time to go back to London for it. Besides, I haven't a visa.'
That also I have taken the liberty of arranging,' said Raxel.
He produced a newspaper of the day before, and pointed to a paragraph. She read: 'Burglars last night forced an entry into the first floor flat at 202 Cambridge Square, Bayswater, occupied by Mr. Ralph Tregarth and his sister , ., sister away in the country ... bureau broken open '. . . Mr. Tregarth said . . . nothing of value taken...'
'The report was quite correct--nothing of value was taken, except this,' said Raxel.
He took a little book from his pocket and handed it over to her. It was her own passport.
'I caused one of my agents in London to obtain it,' explained Raxel. 'The following morning he took it to the United States Consulate and obtained a visa. There should now be nothing to stop you leaving for Southampton this afternoon. If you are agreeable, Mr. Marring will drive you to Southampton to-night. You can board the Megantic at once, and go to sleep; by the time you wake up, England and all your fears will have been left behind.
Betty Tregarth passed a hand across her eyes.
'I've no choice, have I?' she said. 'Yes, I'll go. Will you let me write a couple of letters?'
'Certainly,' said Raxel obligingly. 'In fact, if you would like to write them now, I will post them myself on my walk through the village this after noon.'
'And read them first, I suppose,' said the girl cynically, 'to see that there's nothing in them to incriminate you. Well, there won't be--you're quite safe. They'll be just ordinary good-bye letters.'
Raxel waited patiently while she wrote two short notes--one to her brother, and one to Rameses Smith. She addressed the envelopes and pointedly left the flaps open. Raxel smiled to himself and stuck them down in her presence.
'I don't need to read them,' he said. 'The fact that you were prepared to allow me to do so proves at once that the precaution is not necessary.'
'Will you let me say good-bye to Mr. Smith?' she asked.
Raxel shook his head regretfully.
'I am afraid that is impossible, Miss Tregarth,' he said. 'It is the only privilege that I am forced to deny you.'
She nodded.
'It doesn't matter, really,' she said flatly. 'I didn't think you'd let me.'
'Circumstances forbid me,' said Raxel, and put the letters in his pocket. 'The car will be ready for you directly after dinner, if not before. You will remain in your room until then. In any case you would be busy with your packing. Good-afternoon.'
He left the room, Marring following him, and locked the door again on the outside.
At half-past five that afternoon Crantor returned. The Saint heard the car draw up outside the hotel, and opened his window. It was quite dark, but he could hear voices below, and several men seemed to be moving about in the road. Then the car was turned so that the headlights shone seawards, and they began to flicker. Simon read the Morse message: 'Send boat.' The men did not go into the hotel, but walked about outside, stamping their feet and conversing in undertones. Presently a lamp winked up from the shore, and Crantor's voice could be heard gathering the men together. They set out to cross the patch of waste land that lay between the road and the sea-- Simon saw the torch which Crantor carried to light the way bobbing and dipping down towards the edge of the water. He waited patiently and saw lights spring out on the ship.
After some time the light came flickering over the foreshore like a will-of-the-wisp, but it was Crantor alone who crossed the road and entered the hotel.
The Saint was about to close his window when the door of the hotel opened again, and three people came out. They could be seen in the shaft of light that was flung out into the road by the lamp in the hall. One was Raxel, the other Marring, in hat and coat; the third was a muffled figure in furs. Simon realized who it must be, and his lips hardened.
A moment later Tope came out, carrying a couple of heavy suitcases. These he packed into the back of the car. Then the girl walked to the car alone and got into the front seat. Raxel and Marring stood for a few minutes on the doorstep. Their voices drifted clearly up to the listener above their heads. Only four sentences were spoken.
'You have not forgotten to pack your revolver, my dear Marring?'
'Is it likely?'
'Then, au revoir--and a pleasant voyage.'
Marring chuckled.
'I shall breakfast with you on Thursday,' he said. 'Au revoir. Professor'
He went round to the driver's seat and clambered in.
Simon Templar watched the car drive away. Raxel, standing on the doorstep, watched it out of sight also, and then turned and went indoors. The door closed.
'Hell!' said the Saint.
The balloon was now fairly launched, and he'd been compelled to stand by and watch the performance. And the Saint hated standing by. Yet he'd had to let the girl go, and never make a move to stop her, or even try to get a word with her before she went, because he realized quite clearly that there was nothing he could have done. She must have known that he was in the hotel--even if she didn't, and she had been taken away against her will, she could have cried for help and hoped that he would hear. But she seemed to have left quite willingly. She had walked to the car of her own accord, and although she had not joined in the conversation of Raxel and Marring, there did not seem to have been any coercion. And he realized, of course, that he had nothing to go on, anyway--to all intents and purposes she had been one of the gang. The rest was merely theory--a theory which he would cling to till the bitter end, he admitted, but at the same time a theory which the girl herself had done precious little to encourage. If she'd wanted to see him before she left, she'd have tried to. She wouldn't have gone as quietly as that.
At that moment he heard the voices of Raxel and Crantor coming down the corridor outside. Simon slid noislessly across the room and stood motionless at the side of the door, in such a position that if it were opened he
