Follow the Saint

walked over to the broken window and examined the edges of the smashed pane. On the point of one of the jags of glass clung a couple of kinky white threads— such as might have been ripped out of a gauze bandage. Coming into the train of thought that his mind was follow­ing, the realization of what they meant gave him hardly any sense of shock. He already knew that he was never going to meet Marvin Chase.

Dr Quintus was getting to his feet.

'I'm feeling better now,' he said. 'I'll go for the police.'

'Just a minute,' said the Saint quietly. 'I think I can have someone ready for them to arrest when they get here.'

XI

 

HE TURNED to the girl and took her shoulders in his hands. 'I'm sorry, Rosemary,' he said. 'You're going to be hurt now.'

Then, without stopping to face the bewildered fear that came into her eyes, he went to the door and raised his voice.

'Send the butler along, Hoppy. See that the curtains are drawn where you are, and keep an eye on the windows. If anyone tries to rush you from any direction give 'em the heat first and ask questions afterwards.'

'Okay, boss,' replied Mr Uniatz obediently.

The butler came down the hall as if he were walking on eggs. His impressively fleshy face was pallid and apprehen­sive, but he stood before the Saint with a certain ineradicable dignity.

'Yes, sir?'

Simon beckoned him to the front door; and this time the Saint was very careful. He turned out all the hall lights before he opened the door, and then drew the butler quickly outside without fully closing it behind them. They stood where the shadow of the porch covered them in solid blackness.

'Jeeves,' he said, and in contrast with all that circum­spection his voice was extraordinarily clear and carrying, 'I want you to go to the nearest house and use their phone to call the police station. Ask for Sergeant Jesser. I want you to give him a special message.'

'Me, sir?'

Simon couldn't see the other's face, but he could imagine the expression on it from the tremulous tone of the reply. He smiled to himself, but his eyes were busy on the dark void of the garden.

'Yes, you. Are you scared?'

'No-no, sir. But——'

'I know what you mean. It's creepy, isn't it ? I'd feel the same way myself. But don't let it get you down. Have you ever handled a gun?'

'I had a little experience during the War, sir.'

'Swell. Then here's a present for you.' Simon felt for the butler's flabby hand and pressed his own Luger into it. 'It's all loaded and ready to talk. If anything tries to happen, use it. And this is something else. I'll be with you. You won't hear me and you won't see me, but I'll be close by. If anyone tries to stop you or do anything to you, he'll get a nasty surprise. So don't worry. You're going to get through.'

He could hear the butler swallow.

'Very good, sir. What was the message you wished me to take?'

'It's for Sergeant Jesser,' Simon repeated, with the same careful clarity. 'Tell him about the murder of Mr Forrest, and the other things that have happened. Tell him I sent you. And tell him I've solved the mystery, so he needn't bother to bring back his gang of coroners and photographers and fingerprint experts and what not. Tell him I'm