difficulty in identifying him as the Earl of Eastridge, and that was how Meryl introduced him before Vascoe turned round and recognized his unwelcome visitor.
'How did you get in here?' he brayed.
'Through the front door,' said the Saint genially. 'I put down my five bucks and they told me to walk right in. It's a public exhibition, I believe. Did you come in on a free pass?'
Vascoe recovered himself with difficulty but his large face remained an ugly purple.
'Come to have a look round, have you?' he asked offensively. 'Well, you can look as much as you like. I flatter myself this place is burglarproof.'
Meryl turned white, and the earl tittered. Other guests who were within earshot hovered expectantly-- some of them, one might almost have thought, hopefully. But if they were waiting for a prompt and swift outbreak of violence, or even a sharp and candid repartee, they were doomed to disappointment. The Saint smiled with unruffled good humour.
'Burglarproof, is it?' he said tolerantly. 'You really think it's burglarproof. Well, well, well!' He patted Mr Vascoe's bald head affectionately. 'Now I'll tell you what I'll do, Fatty. I'll bet you twenty thousand dollars it's burgled within a week.'
For a moment Vascoe seemed to be in a tangle with his own vocal cords. He could only stand and gasp like a fish.
'You--you have the effrontery to come here and tell me you're going to burgle my house?' he spluttered. 'You--you ruffian! I'll have you handed over to the police! I never heard of such--such--such----'
'I haven't committed any crime yet, that I know of,' said the Saint patiently. 'I'm simply offering you a sporting bet. Of course, if you're frightened of los-ing . . .'
'Such God-damned insolence 1' howled Vascoe furiously. 'I've got detectives here----'
He looked wildly around for them.
'Or if twenty thousand dollars is too much for you,' Simon continued imperturbably.
'I'll take your twenty thousand dollars,' Vascoe retorted viciously. 'If you've got that much money. I'd be glad to break you as well as see you sent to jail. And if anything happens after this, the police will know who to look for!'
'That will be quite a change for them,' said the Saint. 'And now, in the circumstances, I think we ought to have a stakeholder.'
He scanned the circle of faces that had gathered round them and singled out a dark cadaverous-looking man who was absorbing the scene from the background with an air of disillusioned melancholy.
'I see Morgan Dean of the Daily Mail over there,' he said. 'Suppose we each give him our checks for twenty thousand dollars. He can pay them into his own bank, and write a check for forty thousand when the bet's settled. Then there won't be any difficulty about the winner collecting. What about it, Dean?'
The columnist rubbed his chin.
'Sure,' he drawled lugubriously. 'My bank '11 probably die of shock, but I'll chance it.'
'Then we're all set,' said the Saint, taking out his checkbook. 'Unless Mr Vascoe wants to back out . . .'
Mr Vascoe stared venomously from face to face. It was dawning on him that he was in a corner. If he had seen the faintest encouragement anywhere to laugh off the situation, he would have grabbed at the opportunity with both hands; but he looked for the encouragement in vain. He hadn't a single real friend in the room, and he was realist enough to know it. Already he could see heads being put together, could hear whispers. . . . He knew just what would be said if he backed down . . . and Morgan Dean would put the story on the front page. . . .
Vascoe drew himself up and a malignant glitter came into his small eyes.
'It suits me,' he said swaggeringly. 'Mr Dean will have my check this afternoon.'
He stalked away, still fuming, and Morgan Dean's long sad face came closer to the Saint.
'Son,' he said, 'I like a good story as much as anyone. And I like you. And nobody 'd cheer louder than me if Vascoe took a brodie. But don't you think you've bitten off more than you can chew? I know how much Vascoe loves you, and I'd say he'd almost be glad to spend twenty grand to see you in jail. Besides, it wouldn't do you any good. You couldn't sell stuff like this.'
'You could sell it without the slightest trouble,' Simon contradicted him. 'There are any number of collectors who aren't particular how they make their collections and who don't care if they can't show them to the public. And I've never been in jail, anyway--one ought to try everything once.'
He spent the next hour going slowly round the exhibition, making careful written notes about the exhibits in his catalogue, while Vascoe watched him with his rage rising to the brink of apoplexy. He also examined all the windows and showcases, taking measurements and drawing diagrams with a darkly conspiratorial air, and only appearing to notice the existence of the two obvious detectives who followed him everywhere when he politely asked them not to breathe so heavily down his neck.
Fernack saw the headlines and nearly blew all the windows out of Centre Street. He burst into the Saint's apartment like a whirling dervish.
'What's the meaning of this?' he bugled brassily, thrusting a crumpled copy of the Daily Mail under the Saint's nose. 'Come on--what is it?'
Simon looked at the quivering sheet.
' 'Film Star Says She Prefers Love,' ' he read off it innocently. 'Well, I suppose it means just that, Fernack. Some people are funny that way.'
'I mean this!' blared the detective, dabbing at Morgan Dean's headline with a stubby forefinger. 'I've warned you once, Templar; and, by God, if you try to win this bet I'll get you for it if it's the last thing I do!'
The Saint lighted a cigarette and leaned back.
'Aren't you being just a little bit hasty?' he inquired reasonably; but his blue eyes were twinkling with imps of mockery that sent cold shivers up and down the detective's spine. 'All I've done is to bet that there'll be a burglary at Vascoe's within the week. It may be unusual, but is it criminal? If I were an insurance company----'
'You aren't an insurance company,' Fernack said pungently. 'But you wouldn't make a bet like that if you thought there was any risk of losing it.'
'That's true. But that still doesn't make me a burglar. Maybe I was hoping to put the idea into somebody else's head. Now if you want to give your nasty suspicious mind something useful to work on, why don't you find out something about Vascoe's insurance ?'
For a moment the audacity of the suggestion took Fernack's breath away. And then incredulity returned to his rescue.
'Yeah--and see if I can catch him burgling his own house so he can lose twenty thousand dollars!' He hooted. 'Do you know what would happen if I let my suspicious mind have its own way? I'd have you arrested for vagrancy and keep you locked up for the rest of the week!'
The Saint nodded enthusiastically.
'Why don't you do that?' he suggested. 'It 'd give me a gorgeous alibi.'
Fernack glared at him thoughtfully. The temptation to take the Saint at his word was almost overpowering. But the tantalizing twinkle in the Saint's eyes and the memory of many past encounters with the satanic guile of that debonair freebooter, filled Fernack's heated brain with a gnawing uneasiness that paralyzed him. The Saint must have considered that contingency: if Fernack carried out his threat, he might be doing the very thing that the Saint expected and wanted him to do--he might be walking straight into a baited trap that would elevate him to new pinnacles of ridiculousness before it turned him loose. The thought made him go hot and cold all over.
Which was exactly what Simon meant it to do.
'When I put you in the cooler,' Fernack proclaimed loudly, 'you're going to stay there for more than a week.'
He stormed out of the apartment and went to interview Vascoe.
'With your permission, sir,' he said, 'I'd like to post enough men around this house to make it impossible for a mouse to get in.'
Vascoe shook his head.
'I haven't asked for protection,' he said coldly. 'If you did that, the Saint would be forced to abandon the attempt. I should prefer him to make it. The Ingerbeck Agency is already employed to protect my collection. There are two armed guards in the house all day, and another man on duty all night. And the place is fitted with the latest burglar alarms. The only way it could be successfully robbed would be by an armed gang, and we know that the
