The Saint's Getaway

And then the Saint pushed himself forward.

'It is nothing but lies!' he protested furiously. 'His Highness is attempting to rob me. That box is mine. I can take you to his Highness's castle and show you things that will make you believe me——'

'Silence!' thundered the policeman magnificently. 'It will not help you to insult the nobly born.' He turned to the prince. 'Your Highness shall not be troubled any longer.'

The prince produced a couple of notes from his wallet.

'Yon will understand,' he said, 'that I do not wish for any vulgar publicity.'

The policeman bowed.

'It is understood. Your Highness's name need not be men­tioned. I am proud to have assisted your Highness.' He turned again to the Saint. 'Outside, you scum!'

'But, for God's sake, listen!' cried the Saint desperately. 'Will you not understand that if you let his Highness go, I shall never see my property again? At least you must take him to the Polizeiamt with me, so that the ownership of the box can be properly settled——'

'The ownership of the box is settled to my satisfaction,' said the policeman stoically.

Simon clenched his fists.

'But that is only right!' he said, with savagely direct empha­sis. 'You cannot take me without the box. I have risked every­thing to keep it!'

'It will be no use to you in the prison,' replied the police­man imperviously. 'Will you come outside or must I take you?'

'I refuse—'

Simon stopped short. The policeman's revolver was pointed menacingly at his chest

'Heraus!'

The Saint grabbed the gun and hurled the policeman back. And then the chauffeur's muscular arms wound round his own below the elbows. While they swayed and struggled in the road, he felt two bands of steel snapped on his wrists. Then he was released. He stood wrestling with the handcuffs while the policeman went back to the door of the limousine.

'Your Highness's servant.'

The policeman returned. He seized the Saint by the shoul­der and pushed him roughly onwards. Fuming and cursing, the Saint suffered himself to be manhandled back to the waiting automobile. He was forced into the front seat. The police­man stepped in beside him and took the wheel. The car, with its engine still running, went into gear and gathered speed.

They had travelled a mile before the Saint spoke.

'The hell of a fine partner in crime you are,' he said sourly.

Monty kept his eyes on the road.

'And a hell of a fine crook you are,' he said acidly. 'If this is your usual form, it beats me why there's ever been any fuss about you at all. It's a wonder they didn't lock you up the day after you stole your first sixpence. That's what I think about you. You prance about and get into the most hopeless messes, and expect me to get you out of 'em——'

Patricia leaned over from the back seat.

'Don't you see, boy? We had to get you away somehow, and Monty did the only thing he could. I think he worked it mar­vellously.'

Simon hammered the handcuffs on his knee in a frenzy.

'Oh, Monty was wonderful!' he exploded bitterly. 'Monty was Mother's Angel Child! Make your getaway at any cost— that's Monty. Throw up every stake in the game except your own skin. Damn the boodle that we've all been chancing our necks for——'

'It'll do you good,' said Monty. 'Next time, you won't be in such a hurry to get your friends into trouble.'

'But—damn your daft eyes! We had the game