16 The Saint Overboard

It's a hundred to one you'd miss your boat, and it's cold work splashing around in circles. I'll run you back.'

'Please don't bother. Honestly, the water isn't so cold——'

'But you are.' His smiling eyes took on the slight shiver of her brown body. 'And it's no trouble.'

He passed her with an easy stride, and he was on the compan­ion when she caught his arm.

'Please! Besides, the bet doesn't——'

'Damn the bet, darling. You're too young and good-looking to be washed up stiff on the beach. Besides, you've broken the rules already by coming on board. I'll take you over, and you can just swim across if you like.'

'I won't go with you. Please don't make it difficult.'

'You won't go without me.'

He sat down on the companion, filling the narrow exit with his broad shoulders. She bit her lip.

'It's sweet of you,' she said hesitantly. 'But I couldn't give you any more trouble. I'm not going.'

'Then you ought to use those towels and decide about the brandy and/or coffee,' said the Saint amiably. 'Of course, it may compromise you a bit, but I'm broad-minded. And if this is going to be Romance, may I start by saying that your mouth is the loveliest——'

'No, no! I'm not going to let you row me back.'

'Then I take it you've made up your mind to stay. That's what I was talking about. And while we're on the subject, don't you know that it's immoral for anyone to have legs like yours? They put the wickedest ideas——'

'Please.' There was a beginning of reluctant anger creeping into her gaze. 'It's been nice of you to help me. Don't spoil it now.'

Simon Templar inhaled deeply from his cigarette and said nothing.

Her grey eyes darkened with a scrap of half-incredulous fear that clashed absurdly with the careless good humour of his unvarying smile. Then, as if she was putting the ridiculous idea away, she came forward resolutely and tried to pass him.

One of his long arms reached out effortlessly and closed the remainder of the passage. She fought against it, half playfully at first, and then with all her lithe young strength; but it was as immovable as a bar of iron. In a sudden flash of panic savagery she beat at his chest and shoulders with her fists, but it was like hitting pads of toughened rubber. He laughed softly, without resentment; and she became aware that his other hand had been carefully exploring the form of the curious little pouch on her belt while she fought. She fell back quickly, staring at him.

'I thought it clunked,' he murmured, 'when I pulled you in. And yet you don't look as if you had a cast-iron vanity.'

Her breath was coming faster now, and he knew that it was not only from her exertions.

'I don't know what you're talking about. Will you let me out?'

'No.'

He liked her spirit. The trace of mischief in her eyes was gone altogether by this time, frozen into a sparkle of dangerous exas­peration.

'Have you thought,' she asked slowly, 'what would happen if I screamed?'

'I suppose it couldn't help being pretty musical, as screams go. Your ordinary speaking voice——'

'I could rouse half the harbour.'

He nodded, without shifting his strategic position on the com­panion. 'It looks like being a noisy night.'

'If you don't let me go at once——'

Simon Templar extended his legs luxuriously and blew smoke-rings.