Prelude For War

and profound disinterest in Simon Templar.

'What's happened to Luker and the others?' Simon asked. 'I saw them come in with you just now.'

'They're in the office talking to the coroner, if you want them,' she said indifferently. Then suddenly she lost some of her indifference. 'Are you a reporter?'

'No,' said the Saint regretfully. 'But I could get you one. May I compliment you on your taste in clothes. I always did like that dress.'

He knew the dress very well, since he had helped Patricia to choose it.

Lady Valerie stared at him hard for a moment and then her expression changed completely. It ceased altogether to be cold and disdainful: her features became animated with eagerness.

'Oh,' she said. 'How silly of me! Of course I remember you now. You're the hero, aren't you?'

'Am I?'

She frowned a little.

'Not that I really hoot a lot about this hero business,' she went on. 'I daresay it's all very fine for great he-men to go rushing about dripping with sweat and doing noble things, but I think there ought to be special places set apart for them to perform in.'

'You were rescued yourself the other night, weren't you?' said the Saint pleasantly.

'Rescued? My good man, I was simply thrown about like an old sack. When the fire alarm went off I didn't realize what it was for a moment, and then when Don Knightley came charging into my room with his hair stand­ing on end and his eyes sticking out and his ears absolutely flapping with the most frightful emotion I merely thought I was in for a fate worse than death, and believe me I was. I mean, all's fair in love and war and all that sort of thing, but to be heaved up by one arm and one leg and slung over a man's bony shoulder, and then to be galloped about over miles of lawn with your only garment flapping up around your neck . . .'

She seemed to be expecting sympathy.

Simon laughed.

'It must have been rather trying,' he admitted. 'I haven't seen my rival today. By the way, where is he?'

'He had to go and change the guard, or something dreary. But it doesn't matter. It's nice to see you again.'

She might almost have meant it.

'Next time you want rescuing, you must drop me a line,' said the Saint. 'I'm told I have a very delicate touch with damsels in distress. Maybe I could give you more satis­ faction.'

She glanced sideways at him, out of the corners of her eyes. Her lips twitched slightly.

'Maybe you could,' she said.

'All the same,' Simon continued resolutely, 'it would have been even more trying if you'd been left in your room, wouldn't it?'

Again her expression changed like magic; in a moment she looked utterly woebegone.

'Yes,' she said in a low voice. 'Like—like John.'

She turned wide, distressed eyes on him.

'I—I can't think what could have happened,' she said tremulously. 'He—he must have heard the alarm, and I —I know he wasn't drunk or anything like that. He couldn't have committed suicide, could he? Nobody would commit suicide like—like that.'