The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

the Saint, 'is that still biting?'

'The others were in it for money.'

'I took a hundred thousand francs off Essenden in Paris. It would have been two hundred thousand if we hadn't gone into partnership. Yes, I know—you're a dead loss to me. But there was that little joke I've mentioned more than once, if you remember.'

'Is that your secret?'

'One of them. Didn't I tell you I always have been crazy? That's very important. If I hadn't been crazy, there'd have been no joke, and the Lord alone knows what would have happened to the Angels of Doom; but certainly there'd have been a lot less mirth and horseplay in history than there is now. . . . One day, when this story's over, I'll tell you all about it. All I can say now is that there was one thing I vowed to do before I went re­ spectable; and I can tell you it was well worth doing. Will that do for to-day, Jill?'

He saw the smiling perplexity in her face and the whimsical shake of her head, and laughed. And then he looked at his watch and stood up.

'Do you mind if I go?' he asked. 'It's my bedtime.'

'At one o'clock in the afternoon?'

He nodded.

'I told you I hadn't had any sleep to speak of for two nights. And to-night I'm going to call on a most re­spectable relative, and I don't want to look too dissipated. He mightn't be so ready to believe in my virtues as you are.'

She was surprised into an obvious remark.

'I didn't know you had any relatives.'

'Didn't you? I had a father and a mother, among others. It was most extraordinary. The papers at the time were full of it.'

'You mean the Police News?'

'I don't remember that the Police News was interested in me just then,' said the Saint gravely. 'I rather think their interest developed later.'

She had dropped into banter to cover up her breach of good criminal manners; but she was still inquisitive enough to try to press a serious question.

'Have you honestly got any relatives who still know you?'

It was beautifully put—that touch of sympathetic curi­osity, the quiet assumption that they were now intimate enough to exchange notes. But Simon only laughed.

'To tell you the truth,' he said, 'this isn't a really truly relative, although I call him Auntie Ethel. But he views my indiscretions with a tolerant eye, and still believes that I shall reform one day. Now let's talk about supralap­sarianism. I can't promise when I'll be in again, Jill, but it'll be as soon as I can make it. ...

She went with him to the door and watched him down the stairs, and felt unaccountably lonely when he had gone.

Simon went straight back to Upper Berkeley Mews. He had not been joking when he spoke of going to bed. He would have to be up again that night, and Heaven alone knew when he would get his next full night's rest.

But since he had not noticed Duodecimo Gugliemi before, the Saint did not miss him on the way home.

 

2

 

The Saint had been gone eight hours when a peal on the bell rang sharply through the studio and set the girl's heart pounding against her