The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

his first visit to Belgrave Street, nor their first sight of him, and they might have been expected to show enough intelligence to fortify themselves against his coming beforehand. Simon, however, had not expected it. It was the first slip he had made with the Angels of Doom.

He felt the sharp pressure in his back, and knew what it was without having to turn and look. Even then he did not turn.

Without batting an eyelid he said what he had come to say, exactly as if he had noticed nothing amiss whatever.

'I've still some more news to give you, Jill.'

There was a certain mockery in the eyes that returned his gaze.

'Do you still want to give it?'

'Why, yes,' said the Saint innocently. 'Why not?'

Weald spoke behind him.

'We're listening, Templar. Don't move too suddenly, because I might think you were going to put up a fight.'

The Saint turned slowly and glanced down at the gun in Weald's hand.

'Oh, that! Wonderful how science helps you boys all along the line. And a silencer, too. Do you know, I always thought those things were only used in stories written for little boys?'

'It's good enough for me.'

'I couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be too good for you,' said the Saint. 'Except, perhaps, a really muti­nous sewer.' Then he turned round again. 'Do you know a man named Donnell, Jill?'

'Very well.'

'Then you'd better go ring him up and tell him good­bye. He's going to Dartmoor for a long holiday, and he mightn't remember you when he comes out.'

She laughed.

'The police in Birmingham have been saying things like that about Harry Donnell for the last two years, and they've never taken him.'

'Possibly,' said the Saint in his modest way. 'But this time the police of Birmingham aren't concerned.'

'Then who's going to take him?'

Simon smoothed his hair.

'I am.'

Pinky Budd chuckled throatily.

'Not 'arf, you ain't!'

'Not 'arf, I ain't,' agreed the Saint courteously.

'May I ask,' said the girl, 'how you think you're going to Birmingham?'

'By train.'

'After you leave here?'

'After I leave here.'

'D'you think you're leaving?' interjected Weald.

'I'm sure of it,' said the Saint calmly. 'Slinky Dyson will let me out. He's an old friend of mine.'