deceptive: it covered the distance between the stairway and the door without the waste of a second, although to him it seemed much too slow. 'In any case, we'll keep in touch.'
'Yes.' Graner checked at the door. 'By the way, what about your room?'
'I'll tell them I'm staying-there is somebody here who speaks English.' Simon took his arm and pressed him on. 'The point is that you've got to get your car out of the way before it puts the wind up Joris and his pals-if it hasn't done that already.'
From the front entrance there was a flight of steps down to the street. The Saint stood at the top of the flight and watched Graner all the way down before his breathing really became normal again.
2 He turned and went back into the hotel with the humour dancing again in his eyes. And yet he wasn't letting himself be led astray by a single overoptimistic delusion. He had only taken the first round, and there were a hell of a lot still to go. But the joy was to be in the fight, to be playing a lone hand in the most dangerous game in the world, the game which meant more to him than his own life.
He went up to the desk and buttonholed the wavy-haired boy.
'I am not leaving today,' he said in fluent Spanish. 'So you need not worry about making out that bill. . . . There is something else. It is possible that somebody may be making enquiries about me here. If they aren't enquiring about me, they may be enquiring about the lady for whom I took the room next to me last night.'
'Si, senor. I will tell them.'
'That's just what you won't do. If anybody starts asking any questions, you'll remember that I have nothing to do with the lady next door. I don't know, her. I have never heard of her. I didn't bring her here. zComprende?'
'Si, senor.'
'Apart from that, you will not talk about me at all. Except that if anybody mentions it, you can say that I don't speak Spanish.'
'Pero usted --'
'I know. I speak it better than you do, but I don't want anyone to know. zEstamos ?'
'Si, senor.'
Simon spread a hundred-peseta note on the counter.
'Perhaps that will help you to remember,' he said, and went upstairs.
In his room, Christine was still sleeping, but he only glanced at her. He went across to the window and looked down through the shutters into the square. Graner's car was just driving off, and Simon realised that Graner himself must have taken the wheel, for the chauffeur stood on the pavement and watched the car move away. Then he strolled across to the opposite side of the plaza, propped himself up against the corner of the Casino building among the other idlers who were standing around, unfolded a newspaper from his pocket, and began to read.
Simon poured the remainder of Christine's drink into the washbasin, and picked up Graner's glass, which had been left untouched.
Then he remembered that he had been so confident in his deduction of what had happened to Hoppy and Joris that he hadn't even troubled to check up on it. He put the glass down and went out again.
The door of Hoppy's room was not locked. Simon went in and found the key on the inside. The room was empty, as he had expected. Mr Uniatz' pajamas formed a palpitating splodge of colour on the bed that Joris had slept in, and the old man's clothes were gone. Simon surveyed the rest of the room without finding any other clues. There were no traces even of a mild scrimmage; but the one mysterious fact was a tray laid with two breakfasts which stood on the table. Nothing on it had been touched. Simon frowned at it for some moments before the explanation dawned on him. He leaned over the bed and rang for the chambermaid.
She arrived promptly after he had rung three times.
'Did you see my friend when you brought the breakfast?' he asked.
'No, senor.'
'zComo que no?'
'Because another gentleman took it. He had on a white coat like a camarero, and he said that he wanted to take it in for a joke. I gave him the tray, and I went away when he was knocking.'
'Was he a little man with a small moustache and a black eye?'
'No, he was tall and fair, like an Englishman. He had a graze on his face.'
The Saint nodded slowly. It was simple enough, really-after it had been done.
'I may take the tray?' asked the woman.
'Go ahead. And you can do the room at the same time.'
At least there was nothing to be gained by giving her any more to gossip about.
He went back to his own room, and when he opened the door Christine was sitting up. Her mind was still clouded from the aftereffects of the drug he had given her, and he saw the understanding creep gradually into her eyes as she stared at him. He closed the door behind him and smiled at her.
'I owe you an apology,' he said. 'It's the first time I ever gave a girl a drink like that.'
She shook her head, as if to try and clear away some of the mists from her brain.
'What did you do it for?' she asked huskily.
'It was either that or clipping you under the jaw, and I thought the drink would be kinder,' He crossed over to the bed and sat down beside her. 'Does it feel very bad?'
