The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

'Who said I did?' asked the Saint, opening wide, child­like eyes of innocent astonishment.

The girl came over and sat on the arm of his chair. In her plain blue frock, with her lovely face innocent of the make-up which it never needed, she might have posed for a picture that would have made that studio famous, if Simon Templar had been an artist; and the Saint admired her frankly.

'That American boy is going to have a busy life bump­ing off aspiring co-respondents some day,' he murmured idly.

'What were you doing—on drain pipes?'

'Birds-nestin'.'

'Simon!'

'All right, teacher. If you want to know, I'm going into the plumbing trade, and I wanted to do my studies on the cheap.'

She stood up impatiently; and Simon laughed, and pulled her down again by a hand which he had not released.

Absent-mindedly, he kissed the hand.

'Thank you.'

'Not at all,' said the Saint politely. 'Look here, will you believe me if I swear that Scotland Yard was robbed the night before last, and I didn't do my drain-piping till last night—or rather the small hours of this morning?'

She looked him puzzledly in the eyes.

'Yes,' she said, 'I will. But what are you getting at?'

The Saint grinned.

'Then hold on,' he said, 'because your faith in my word is going to get a shock.'

He slipped a hand into his breast pocket and brought it out with a heavy envelope.

'Take a look. No charge for inspection.'

She turned the envelope over. It was not sealed. Turn­ing back the flap, she drew out a thick bundle of papers and unfolded them.

At the sight of the first one, her face changed. Then she glanced rapidly through the rest. She turned to the Saint with a frown on her eyebrows and a half-smile on her lips.  

'You—blighter!'

'I told you your faith would take a toss.'

'But why not tell me right away?'

'Tell you what?'

The innocence of the Saint's wide blue eyes was blind­ing.

'Why not tell me at once that you'd bust the Records Office?' she said.

'Because,' said the Saint blandly, 'it wouldn't have been precisely true. I'm always very particular about telling the precise truth,' he said virtuously.

'It's either true, or it isn't——'

'Talking of macaroons,' said the Saint hurriedly, 'have you noticed the last sheet?'

She looked.

'It's blank.'