13 The Saint Intervenes (Boodle)

'That's splendid,' he boomed, when the formalities had been completed. 'Now then, my dear sir, how soon can you move out?'

'In ten minutes,' said Peter Quentin promptly, and he was as good as his word.

He met the Saint in a neighbouring hostelry and exhibited his trophy. Simon Templar took one look at it, and lifted his tankard.

'So perish all the ungodly,' he murmured. 'Let us get round to the bank before they close.

It was three days later when he drove down to Hampshire with Patricia Holm to supervise the installation of Uncle Dave Roberts in the cottage which had been prepared for him. It stood in the street of a village that had only one street, a street that was almost an exact replica of Turk's Lane set down in a valley between rolling hills. It had the same oak-beamed cottages, the same wrought-iron lamps over the lintels to light the doors by night, the same rows of tiny shops clustering face to face with their wares spread out in unglazed windows; and the thundering main road traffic went past five miles away and never knew that there was a village there.

'I think you'll be happy here, Uncle Dave,' he said; and he did not need an answer in words to complete his reward.

It was a jubilant return journey for him; and they were in Guildford before he recollected that he had backed a very fast outsider at Newmarket. When he bought a paper he saw that that also had come home, and they had to stop at the Lion for celebrations.

'There are good moments in this life of sin, Pat,' he re­marked, as he started up the car again; and then he saw the expression on her face, and stared at her in concern. 'What's the matter, old darling—has that last Martini gone to your head?'

Patricia swallowed. She had been glancing through the other pages of the Evening News while he tinkered with the ignition; and now she folded the sheet down and handed it to him.

'Didn't you promise Uncle Dave whatever money there was in his house as well as that cottage?' she asked.

Simon took the paper and read the item she was pointing to.

TREASURE TROVE

                         IN LONDON

                                                      EXCAVATION

——————————

Windfall for Winlass

——————————

The London clay, which has given up many strange secrets in its time, yesterday surrendered a treasure which has been in its keeping for 300 years.

Ten thousand pounds is the estimated value of a hoard of gold coins and antique jewellery discovered by workmen engaged in de­molishing an old house in Turk's Lane, Brompton, which is being razed to make way for a modern apartment building.

The owner of the property, Mr. Vernon Winlass——

The Saint had no need to read any more; and as a matter of fact he did not want to. For several seconds he was as far beyond the power of speech as if he had been born dumb.

And then, very slowly, the old Saintly smile came back to his lips.

'Oh, well, I expect our bank account will stand it,' he said cheerfully, and turned the car back again towards Hampshire.

 

VI

The Sleepless Knight

If a great many newspaper cuttings and references to news­papers find