13 The Saint Intervenes (Boodle)

Mr. Walter said he was coming round in about an hour's time, and if you're going to make your offer in an acceptable form——'

It is only a matter of record that Willie went. It is also on record that he took his departure in a speed and ferment that eclipsed even his arrival; and Simon Templar went to the tele­phone and called Patricia.

'You must have done a great job, darling,' he said. 'What did you get out of it?'

'Five hundred pounds,' she told him cheerfully. 'I got an open cheque and took it straight round to his bank—I'm just pushing out to buy some clothes, as soon as I've washed this paint off my face.'

'Buy a puce jumper,' said the Saint, 'and christen it Willie. I want to keep it for a pet.'

Rather less than an hour had passed when the front door bell pealed again; and Simon looked out of the window and beheld the form of Walter Kinsall standing outside. He went to let the caller in himself.

Mr. Walter Kinsall was a little taller and heavier than his brother, but the rat-like mould of his features and his small beady eyes were almost the twins of his brother's. At that point their external resemblance temporarily ended, for Wal­ter's bearing was not hysterical.

'Well, Mr. Penwick,' he said gloatingly, 'has my cheque been cleared?'

'It ought to be through by now,' said the Saint. 'If you'll wait a moment, I'll just phone up the bank and make sure.'

He did so, while the elder Kinsall rubbed his hands. He paused to reflect, with benevolent satisfaction, what a happy chance it was that his first name, while bearing the same initial as his brother's, still came first in index sequence, so that this decayed solicitor, searching the telephone directory for putative kin of the late Sir Joseph, had rung him up first. What might have happened had their alphabetical order been different, Walter at that moment hated to think.

'Your cheque has been cleared,' said the Saint, returning from the telephone; and Walter beamed.

'Then, Mr. Penwick, you have only to hand me the will——'

Simon knit his brows.

'The situation is rather difficult,' he began; and suddenly Walter's face blackened.

'What the devil do you mean—difficult?' he rasped. 'You've had your money. Are you trying——'

'You see,' Simon explained, 'your brother has been in to see me.'

Walter gaped at him apoplectically for a space; and then he took a threatening step forward.

'You filthy double-crossing——'

'Wait a minute,' said the Saint. 'I think this is Willie coming back.'

He pushed past the momentarily paralysed Walter, and went to open the front door again. Willie stood on the step, puffing out his lean rat-like cheeks and quivering as if he had just escaped from the paws of a hungry cat. He scrabbled in his pockets, tugged out a thick sheaf of banknotes, and crushed them into the Saint's hands as they went down the hall.

'It's all there, Mr. Penwick,' he gasped. 'I haven't been long, have I? Now will you give me——'

It was at that instant that he entered the room which Simon Templar had rented for the occasion, and saw his brother; and his failure to complete the sentence was under­standable.

For a time there was absolute silence, while the two de­voted brothers glared at each other with hideous rigidity. Simon Templar took out his cigarette case