The Saint's Getaway

tickled.'

'But what have you been doing?' asked the girl breathlessly.

The Saint laughed and kissed her. He chucked his straw hat up on the rack, loosened his tie, put the monocle away in his pocket, removed the flower from his coat and presented it ex­quisitely to Monty, and flung himself loosely into a corner seat, long-limbed and piratical and unchangeably disturbing —taking Patricia's cigarette from her lips and inhaling from it between merry lips.

'I've been keeping the ball rolling and adding another felony to our charge sheet Rudolf knows that the boodle is now in the post—he'd done a few calories of hot thinking and spooned the confirmation out of the head porter. I didn't dis­pute it. Then he offered to join forces and halve the kitty—told me we hadn't a hailstone's break in hell of making the grade alone. Well, the time was getting on, and I'd got to shake him off somehow. He told me his car was outside and it was mine if I cared to go in cahoots with him, so I told him quite truth­fully I should love to borrow it. I think he must have misunder­stood me, somehow, because we went out together, and he was quite shocked when I simply stepped in and drove away. I ran around a couple of blocks into a quiet street behind the sta­tion, and bailed out when no one was looking. Then I went through a shop and bought that lid, and an old woman sold me the veg for two marks because she said I'd a lucky face. And---do you know, Monty?—I believe I have!'

Monty nodded.

'You'll need it,' he said decisively. 'If Rudolf catches you again I should think he'll roast you over a slow fire.'

'He's likely to try it,' said the Saint lightly. 'But d'you know what it was worth? . . . My villains, think of the situation I Right now we've got Rudolf—got him as he's never been got in his life before. He knows the boodle hasn't gone out of Ger­many—I couldn't have risked it, because it might have been opened by the Customs. His one hope is to trail me and watch me collect my mail. And the worst thing that could possibly happen to him would be to get us into more trouble with the police! Whatever we said to his proposition, he was doomed to move heaven and earth to keep the paws of the police from our coat collars, because once we were in jug the boodle'd be lost forever. He's got to take everything we give him. We can shoot up his staff—pinch his cars—pour plates of soup down his dicky—and he's got to open his face from ear to ear and tell the world how he loves a good joke!' Simon rolled over on one elbow and thumped Monty in the stomach. 'Boys and girls—do you like it?'

The other two sorted his meaning gradually out of that jubi­lant cataract of words.They analyzed and absorbed it while he laughed at them; and then, before they could marshal their thoughts for a reply, he was raiding and scattering them again with a fresh twist of mountebank's magic.

'You two were followed to the station. Rudolf's pals were snooping round the hotel, even if they thought it was safer to stop outside. You can take it that a guy who could deduce the whole idea of shooting boodle into the post office would have his own notions about fire escapes. That little runt we laid out in the Konigshof last night is on the train, and I'll bet he trod in on your heels. The one thing I'm wondering is whether he had time to get a message back before we pulled out' Si­mon was radiant. 'And now try some more. Have you heard the new scream about the bishop?'

'Bishop?' repeated Monty feebly.

'Yep. And for once there's no actress in it——'

He broke off as a large-bosomed female burdened with two travelling rugs, a Pekinese, and the words of Ethel M. Dell threaded herself through the door and deposited herself in the vacant corner. The Saint glared at Monty and waved his arms wildly in the air. He raved on as if he had not noticed the in­trusion.

'. . . and you would be locked up if I had my way. You ought to have gone to the hospital. I should think if the authorities knew you were tearing around like this with a dose of scarlet fever they'd clap you straight into an asylum. And what about me? Did I tell you I wanted to catch all your diseases——'

A muffled yelp wheezed out of the strong, silent corner, and the Saint started round in time to see a black bombazine rump undulating agitatedly out of view. Simon settled himself back and grinned again.

'Bishop?' Monty encored hazily. The pace was a bit rapid for him.

'Or something like it. But you must have seen him. Bloke with a face like a prawn and white fur round his ears. Damn it, he was rubbering in here a few minutes back! I was dodg­ing him in and out of lavatories all down the train, which