The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

taxi with Gugliemi to Upper Berkeley Mews.

He was as good as his word. It was almost exactly an hour later when she heard his key in the lock, and the next moment he walked in, as calm and unperturbed as if nothing of any interest whatever had happened that evening.

By that time she had collected her wits, and she was ready for him.

'Did you have a good talk?' she inquired.

'Charming,' said the Saint, stretching himself out on the sofa and lighting a cigarette. 'What about a brace of those kippers I brought in this morning? My respectable friend gave me a slap-up dinner, but I've still got room for some good plain food.'

'What did you talk to Gugliemi about?' she persisted.

'About Judas Iscariot.'

'Don't be funny.'

'But I'm dead serious, Jill. In that famous name you have the whole conversation in a nutshell. He didn't take much persuading, either, and we parted bosom friends.'

'Do you mind giving me some straight talk? What's this game you're playing now?'

Simon grinned.

'That,' he said, 'must still be one of my own particular secrets. But I can satisfy you about Gugliemi, who has a very kind heart when you dig down to it, although his methods are rather low. In fact, I gather that he was really getting quite fond of you before I arrived and spoilt his evening.'

'I quite believe that,' said the girl grimly.

'Joking apart,' said the Saint, 'he's an interesting psychological specimen: I'd figured that in the first few minutes. He was quite ready to put you out of the way in his own fashion—for a fee—since he had been told that you were a political nuisance. But I had a much better story to tell him. I didn't even have to beat him up, which I was quite prepared to do. I took him into my confidence. I dosed him with a bottle of Chianti I found lying around. I told him he'd been humbugged all the way down the line, and I was able to produce a bit of evidence to con­vince him.'

'What evidence was that?'

'Never mind. But he was really quite ready to be con­vinced, because, as I said, you'd made a great impression on him. And when he saw what the game was, what with his native chivalry and another litre of Chianti and my persuasive tongue, he switched right round the other way. And now I believe he'd go out after Cullis with a gun in each hand and a stiletto behind his ear if you asked him to. Did you know his first name was Duodecimo? That's a jolly sort of name, that is. We were getting as matey as that before the end. . . . The really interesting point is our assistant commissioner's psychology.'

The girl was lighting a cigarette.

'Go on,' she said.

'You see his point,' said the Saint. 'You're getting troublesome, so Cullis employs Gugliemi to bump you off. If Gugliemi doesn't get caught, so much the better. If he does get caught, and tries to tell anyone that the assistant commissioner employed him to take you for a ride, they'd just think he was raving. It was really beautifully simple. My respectable friend will just love that story.'

The girl looked at him curiously.

'Who is this respectable friend you keep talking about?'

'Auntie Ethel,' said the Saint lucidly. 'She has a very fine sense of humour. For instance, she simply roared over the