The Saint's Getaway

'I walked in. The door was open.'

The two men remained motionless, continuing to stare. It was the Saint's gun and the Saintly smile that had paralyzed them at first—their first thought had been that they were dealing with a maniac, and the Saint knew that after the initial shock of his appearance had worn off they were both weighing the chances of his touching off the trigger if either of them made an incautious movement. Against that they were balanc­ing the alternative potentialities of a tactful submission until they could distract the attention of those unwavering blue eyes.

Then Simon observed that the younger man was studying his face intently; he sensed the incredulous understanding before it was fully formed in the man's own mind and forestalled it cheerfully:

'I am Simon Templar—the Saint.'

The two men remained motionless—and now the reason for their stillness was concentrated entirely in his gun hand. He could feel every phase of the struggle that went on in their minds. The most wanted man in Europe—the man for whom the whole German police force was scouring the country—the man on whose head extravagant rewards had been placed— was standing coolly before them in that room. The prize that every man in the force would have given his right hand to win was tempting them from a range of four yards. And the auto­matic in his hand was held in the tremorless grip of a steel ro­bot The terse information they had received had magnified itself in their imaginations to something almost fabulous. Whichever of them made the first threatening move would be doomed—the other might possibly survive to win the glory. The atmosphere stifled with the terrific pressure of their inward battle.

'I shall have to handcuff you,' said the Saint quietly. 'You will turn your backs and put your hands behind you—and keep them well away from your bodies.' He saw their limbs go tense as the full meaning of his order became plain to them, and went on swiftly, with his voice tightened up in a crisp urgency of menace: 'You think that any risk would be preferable to the disgrace of having been made prisoners in your own strong­hold. You would be wrong. Both of you would die before you could take a step towards me. You have heard of me—you can estimate your own prospects. I give you my word that no harm will come to you.'

It was a war of wills, fought out silently in that confined space over the thrusting swords of their eyes. The Saint had no wish to shoot. And yet, if it had been forced upon him, he would have dropped those two men as mercifully as he could. To him there was a bigger issue at stake even than the lives of two innocent martyrs to duty.

Perhaps the two men, by some strange telepathy carried on that clash of opposing wills, felt what was on the Saint's mind. But the elder man bowed his head and turned slowly round. His subordinate paused a moment before following his ex­ample, and turned round at last with an unswerving glare of defiance.

Simon sensed all the galling bitterness of their surrender as he fastened handcuffs on their wrists and linked their ankles similarly together; but he breathed again. He pocketed his gun and allowed them to turn round to their former positions. In another corner of the room he saw an enormous steel cabi­net, with plenty of room for two men to stand between the shelves of documents that lined the walls. He went over and examined it more closely; but, as he had feared, the great door would seal it hermetically.

He faced his prisoners again.

'I do not want to make your position more painful than my own safety demands,' he said. 'If you will give me your pa­roles as gentlemen that you will make no attempt to escape, or to attract attention in any way, whatever happens, I shall be able to spare you further indignity.'

The chief gazed at him sombrely.

'You could scarcely do more than you have done already,' he remarked, with a trace of irony; 'and it seems that you have taken effective measures to protect yourself. What else do you want?'

'I have still to enjoy the little talk I spoke of,' said the Saint. 'But your part in it is silent. You must not be allowed to interrupt. I assure you, it would distress me to have to stun you while you are defenseless, and then gag you, before I placed you in that cabinet. The alternative is in your own hands. I shall require you to stand inside the cabinet during my con­versation. You will do nothing to betray your presence, what­ever you hear, until five minutes after I have finally left the room.'

'May I know your object?'

'You will realize it soon enough.'

The white-haired soldier hesitated, and in his hesitation the younger man let loose a string of snarling protests.

The chief cut him short with a movement of his head.

'We do not help ourselves by inviting injury, Inspecktor,' he said. 'I shall give my parole.'