Knight Templar, or The Avenging Saint

'What is it?'

'It just says—'Hermann.' '

And the Saint, looking up, saw Roger's face, and laughed softly.

'In the general excitement,' he said gently, 'we forgot dear Hermann. And Hermann was ordered to go straight back as soon as he'd parked his bombs. I expect he has. Anyway, I haven't heard that he's been caught. There's still a chance, of course. . . . Roger, you may wonder what's hap­pened to me, but I rang up our old friend Chief Inspector Teal and told him all about Saltham, and he went off as fast as a police car could take him. It remains to be seen whether he arrived in time. ... The crown prince left England last night, but they've collected Heinrich. I'm afraid Ike will have to get a new staff of servants, though. His old ones are dead beyond repair. . . . I think that's all the dope,'

'It doesn't seem to worry you,' said Roger.

'Why should it?' said the Saint a little tiredly. 'We've done our job. Angel Face is smashed, whatever happens. He'll never be a danger to the world again. And if he's caught he'll be hanged, which will do him a lot of good. On the other hand, if he gets away, and we're destined to have another round—that is as the Lord may provide.'

'And Norman?'

The Saint smiled, a quiet little smile.

'There was a letter from Pat this morning,' he said. 'Posted at Suez. They're going on down the east coast of Africa, and they expect to get around to Madeira in the spring. And I'm going to do something that I think Norman would have wanted far more than vengeance. I'm going ad­venturing across Europe; and at the end of it I shall find my lady.'

Roger moved away and glanced at the tele­phone.

'Have you heard from Sonia?' he asked.

'She called up,' said the Saint. 'I told her to come right round and bring papa. They should be here any minute now.'

Conway picked up the Bystander and put it down again.

He said: 'Did you mean everything you said last night—this morning?'

Simon stared out of the window.

'Every word,' he said.

He said: 'You see, old Roger, some queer things happen in this life of ours. You cut adrift from all ordinary rules; and then, sometimes, when you'd sell your soul for a rule, you're all at sea. And when that happens to a man he's surely damned, bar the grace of Heaven; because I only know one thing worse than swallowing every commandment that other people lay down for you, and that's having no commandments but those you lay down for yourself. None of which abstruse philosophy you will understand. . . . But I'll tell you, Roger, by way of a fact, that everything life gives you has to be paid for; also that where your life leads you, there will your heart be also. Selah. Autographed copies of that speech, on vellum, may be obtained on the instal­ment plan at all public houses and speakeasies— one pound down, and the rest up a gum tree. ...'

A car drove down the mews and stopped by the door. But Roger Conway was still looking at the Saint; and Roger was understanding, with a strange wild certainty, that perhaps after all he had never known the Saint, and perhaps he would never know him.

The Saint closed his book. He laid it down on the table beside him, and turned to meet Roger's eyes.

' 'For all the Saints who from their labours rest,' ' he said. 'Sonia has arrived, my Roger.'

And he stood up, with the swift careless laugh that Roger knew, an his hand fell on Roger's shoulder, and so they went out together into the sunlight.

THE END