Follow the Saint

told them about the letter. I'm sure you could have quoted what was in it. Something about how she was being forced to help in putting over a gigantic fraud, and how she wanted me to help her. Sergeant Jesser would have been wild with excitement about that. Naturally, he'd 've seen at once that that provided an obvious motive for me to murder her, and none at all for the guy whose fraud was going to be given away. It really was pretty noble of you both to take so much trouble to keep me out of suspicion, and I appreciate it a lot. And now that we're all pals together, and there aren't any policemen in the audience, why don't you save me a lot of headaches and tell me what the swindle is?'

The girl stared at him.

'Do you know what you're saying ?'

'I usually have a rough idea,' said the Saint coolly and deliberately. 'I'll make it even plainer, if that's too subtle for you. Your father's a millionaire, they tell me. And when there are any gigantic frauds in the wind, I never expect to find the big shot sitting in a garret toasting kippers over a candle.'

Forrest started towards him.

'Look here, Templar, we've stood about enough from you——'

'And I've stood plenty from you,' said the Saint, without moving. 'Let's call it quits. We were both misunderstanding each other at the beginning, but we don't have to go on doing it. I can't do anything for you if you don't put your cards on the table. Let's straighten it out now. Which of you two cooled off Nora Prescott?'

He didn't seem to change his voice, but the question came with a sharp stinging clarity like the flick of a whip. Rose­mary Chase and the young man gaped at him frozenly, and he waited for an answer without a shift of his lazily negligent eyes. But he didn't get it.

The rattle of the doorhandle made everyone turn, almost in relief at the interruption. A tall cadaverous man, severely dressed in a dark suit and high old-fashioned collar, his chin bordered with a rim of black beard, pince-nez on a loop of black ribbon in his hand, came into the room and paused hesitantly.

Rosemary Chase came slowly out of her trance.

'Oh, Dr Quintus,' she said in a quiet forced voice. 'This is Mr Templar and—er——'

'Hoppy Uniatz,' Simon supplied.

Dr Quintus bowed; and his black sunken eyes clung for a moment to the Saint's face.

'Delighted,' he said in a deep burring bass; and turned back to the girl. 'Miss Chase, I'm afraid the shock has upset your father a little. Nothing at all serious, I assure you, but I think it would be unwise for him to have any more excite­ment just yet. However, he asked me to invite Mr Templar to stay for dinner. Perhaps later . . .'

Simon took another sip at his beer, and his glance swung idly over to the girl with the first glint of a frosty sparkle in its depths.

'We'd be delighted,' he said deprecatingly. 'If Miss Chase doesn't object——'

'Why, of course not.' Her voice was only the minutest shred of a decibel out of key. 'We'd love to have you stay.'

The Saint smiled his courteous acceptance, ignoring the wrathful half movement that made Forrest's attitude rudely obvious. He would have stayed anyway, whoever had objected. It was just dawning on him that out of the whole fishy set-up, Marvin Chase was the one man he had still to meet.

VI

'BOSS,' SAID Mr Uniatz, rising to his feet with an air of firm decision, 'should I go to de terlet ?'

It was not possible for, Simon to pretend that he didn't know him; nor could he take refuge in temporary deafness.