The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

'Oh, but he hasn't got to rely on his reputation alone, comrade. There is a very important bit of corroborative what's-it, or circumstantial how's-your-father.'

'And what might that be?'

'I'll tell you that later,' said the Saint, 'if you remind me. But for the present I'm just fascinated to hear what fairy tale you think you're going to tell about that fiver.'

'Do you really think you'll be able to use that against me?'

'I do.'

'Let me tell you,' said Cullis, 'that you're going to be disappointed. There's one thing you seem to have for­gotten, but I remember it quite well. Waldstein himself, under the name of Stephen Weald, was at one time a member of Trelawney's precious gang. Did you know that?'

'I did.'

'Then,' said Cullis deliberately, 'what is more natural than that you should have in your possession a five-pound note which can be traced back to Waldstein's account?'

The Saint looked at him. And the Saint smiled, and shook his head.

'Not good enough,' he said. 'That might possibly be made to account for this note which I've got here; but will it account for the others which can probably still be found somewhere among your belongings?'

'Which you could have planted there.'

'That excuse didn't save Sir Francis Trelawney,' said the Saint, cold as a judge. 'Why should you think it will save you?'

Their eyes met for a long while, and then Cullis took a slow step forward. His face had become a mask of granite.

'I see,' he said again, very slowly.

'So glad you appreciate the point,' said the Saint. 'It is going to be a bit awkward for you, isn't it? But it ought to go a long way towards clearing Sir Francis Tre­lawney's name.'

'And who,' said Cullis, in the same soft voice, 'is going to make a search of my possessions before I have time to get those notes out of the way?'

And the Saint smiled again, rocking gently on his heels.

'Thank you,' he said, 'for admitting that you have got the other notes.'

'And suppose I admit it,' said Cullis calmly. 'You've still got to answer my question. Who's going to make that search—and prove anything?'

'I might arrange it,' said the Saint. And he said it so quietly and naturally that it was hard to read any blind bluff into the words.

Cullis looked closely at him, and a little pulse began to beat in Cullis's forehead.

'There's something funny about you, Simon Templar——'

'We are amused,' said the Saint politely.

'But perhaps,' said Cullis, 'even you couldn't have prophesied what was going to happen to you when you'd told me that story.'

'Tell me.'

'You're a dangerous