within the next three seconds, and yet his one desperate hope was pinned to the temptation he had left two steps behind—the iron rod which he had put down so carefully, with one end on an upset ashtray from which it could not be moved without the slight grating sound for which his ears were straining. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Orace leaning rigidly forward on the couch, his scarecrow face set in a stare of indomitable wrath. . . .
It came—the faint gritting scrape of metal which told him that the stanchion was being picked up. And the Saint flung himself back with an instantaneous release of his tensed muscles.
His right heel went kicking backwards like a mule's, straight as a gunshot for the place where the head of the man behind him should have been if he was bending to pick up the stanchion, with all the power of the Saint's vengeful thews packed into it, and a silent prayer to speed it on its way. And the head of the intruder was exactly where Simon had computed it should have been. He felt the ecstatic squelch of the leather sogging home into something hard and only superficially yielding, heard the
From the man behind had come one single shrill hiccough of agony: and the Saint twisted round in time to see him rocking back on his haunches with one hand clapped to his face and the blood spurting through his fingers. His other hand still clutched the silenced gun, weaving it round in a blind search for a target. It plopped again, chipping the corner from a mirror on the after bulkhead; and Simon laughed softly and fell on him with his knees. As he grabbed the man's gun wrist he saw Orace lurching forward to pick up the iron bar which had given him his chance, and the obvious justice of the team play appealed to him irrestibly. He rolled under his victim with a quick squirm and a heave, and the man's weight came dead on his hands as Orace struck.
The Saint wriggled out from underneath and sat up, feeling for a cigarette and leaning against the bunk.
'A shrewd swipe, Orace—very shrewd,' he commented, eyeing the sleeping beauty with professional approval. 'It must have made you feel a lot better. What's all the excitement been about?'
While he explored the extent of his crew's injuries, Orace told him.
' 'E came alongside abaht 'arf-parst nine, sir. Said 'e 'ad a messidge from yer. 'Ho, yus?' I ses, 'wot is this 'ere messidge?' 'Yer to go an' meet Mr Tombs at the Queen's right awy,' 'e ses. 'Ho, yus?' I ses, 'well, Mr Tombs's larst words to me was to sty 'ere till it snows,' I ses. So 'e ses: 'This is very urgent. Can I come aboard an' tell yer the rest of the messidge?'—and before I could say anythink 'e'd come aboard. 'Not aht 'ere,' 'e ses, 'where we can be seen. Let's go below.' So 'e goes below, wivout so much as a by-your-leave, an' I follers 'im to tell 'im where 'e gets orf. 'I gotter whisper it,' 'e ses; an' then, bang, I got a biff on the 'ead that lide me right aht.'
'What about this bullet?'
'That was afterwards. When I woke up 'e was still tearin' the saloon to pieces, an' 'e didn't notice me. I lay doggo fra bit, an' then I got 'old of one of the drawers wot 'e'd pulled out an' shied it at 'im. Must 've knocked 'im arf silly, becos I nearly got me 'ands on 'im, but I 'adn't got me legs back so much as I thought I 'ad, an' 'e pulled out 'is gun an' shot me.'
'And damned nearly killed you,' said the Saint thoughtfully.
The bullet had struck one of Orace's left ribs, glanced off, and torn an ugly gash in the muscle of his arm. So far as the Saint could tell, there were no bones broken; and he busied himself with expertly dressing and bandaging the wound, while his mind probed for the origins of that riotous visit.
It wasn't homicide alone and primarily, at least—he was sure of that. From the story, the shot which had crippled Orace looked more like an accident of panic, the desperate impulse of any thug who had felt himself on the point of being cornered and captured. And if that had been the object, it would have been easy enough to finish the job—he himself could have been picked off without warning while he stood at the head of the companion. If not that, then what? The eruptive appearance of the saloon provided a ready answer. Vogel was still searching for information; and the legend of convenient harbour thieves had already been established in Dinard.
There was another suggestion which he remembered as he put the last touches to Orace's bandages.
'Did a porter bring a couple of trunks along for me?' he asked; and Orace nodded.
'Yessir. They came abaht arf-parst seven. I put 'em in the starboard cabin.'
Simon went forward as soon as he had finished, and found more or less what he had expected. The cords had been cut
