The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

Lord Essenden had been overcome by a violent and agonizing attack of toothache. But he refused to allow his misfor­tune to interfere with his wife's amusement, and insisted that she should go to London alone. He had telephoned to friends and arranged for them to accompany his lady.

That was one thing. The servants had been a second problem. But, in the matter of disposing of the servants, Fate had played kindly into his hand. That night there was a dance in the next village. His staff had previously applied to him for permission to attend, which he had refused. Now he repented, and, in an astonishing burst of generosity, he gave the evening off to every man and woman in Essenden Towers. The butler would have stayed, but Essenden packed him off with the others, say­ing he would much rather be left alone with his ache.

Thus it had been easy for Lord Essenden to introduce into the house the four men who now bore him company.

They had been carefully chosen. Lord Essenden had very few more criminal acquaintances than any other suc­cessful financier, but from the hoodlums of his acquaint­ance he had selected those four with care and forethought.

They sat round the table, helping themselves from the whisky bottle which he had placed at their disposal-four carefully chosen men. There was 'Flash' Arne, a ferrety-faced man with a taste in diamond rings and horsy tweeds, a prominent member of a race gang that many North of England bookmakers had known to their cost. There was 'Snake' Ganning, recently released from Pen­tonville; tall and lean and supple, with the sleek black hair and long neck and beady eyes that had earned him his name. There was 'Red' Harver, with the permanent scowl and the huge hasty fists. And there was Matthew Keld, who had once had his face slashed from temple to chin with a razor by a man who was never given the chance to slash another face in his life. Four very carefully chosen men.

Essenden spoke:

'Is everything quite clear?'

He looked round the small circle of faces, and the own­ers of the faces gazed back at him complacently. Snake Ganning inclined his head on the end of his long neck and answered for them all, in his soft, sibilant voice.

'Everything's quite clear.'

'I can't tell you how they'll come in,' said Essenden. 'I do know that there are only two of them. If I know any­thing about them, I should say they'd probably walk up to the front door and ring the bell. But they may not. I've worked out the posts I've given you in different parts of the house so that each one of you will easily be able to cover his share of the ground-floor rooms. There are alarms everywhere, and you will all be in touch with one another. The man you wilt deal with as you like. The girl you will bring to me.'

It was the fourth or fifth time that Lord Essenden had repeated similar instructions in his fussy and hesitant way, and the Snake's sunken black eyes regarded their employer with a certain contempt.

'We heard you,' he said.

'All right.'

Essenden fidgeted with his tie, and looked at his watch for the twentieth time.

'I think you'd better go to your posts,' he said.

Ganning rose, uncoiling his long length like a slowed-up jack-in-the-box.

'C'mon,' he said.

Arne and Keld rose to follow him, but Red Harver sat where he was. Ganning tapped him on the shoulder.

'C'mon, Beef.'

Harver rose slowly, without looking round. His eyes were fixed intently on something behind Essenden. Be­hind Essenden was a window, with the heavy curtains drawn.

The others, looking curiously at Harver, grasped what he was staring at, and followed his gaze. But they saw nothing. Essenden himself turned, with an abrupt jumpy movement. Then he turned round again.