'It's lovely to see you, dear.' Her voice was cool and self-possessed. 'I heard this morning that you were here, and I rushed right over.' She turned towards Haskins as he shuffled up. 'Why, hullo, Sheriff. I didn't expect to see you again today.'
'It's an unexpected pleasure for me, Miss Leith.'
'The Sheriff was out on Randy's yacht last night, Simon,' she explained quickly. 'Oh, I forgot-you don't know Randy, do you? You must meet him. Randolph March. Anyway, he has this yacht, and we were out last night, and a poor boy fell overboard and got drowned, and the Sheriff had to come out and see about it.'
Haskins' eyes had a birdlike brightness. 'Why, miss,' he said, with an air of persuasive surprise, 'wasn't it Mr March who told you Mr Templar was heah?'
'Oh, no! Mr March would be frightfully jealous if he knew I'd come here. You will be an old dear and not say a word about it, won't you?' She took his enslavement for granted with a glance of saccharine seduction, and turned away again to twine fingers with the Saint 'Sally wrote me from New York.'
'I hoped she would,' said the Saint happily. The shadow of great gloom fell back over Haskins' face. The brightness went out of his eyes, to be replaced by a look of dour resignation. He said: 'Well, folks, I don't like to interrupt the meetin' of old friends. I guess I'll be moseyin' along.'
'Won't you even stay for a drink?' Simon invited halfheartedly.
'No, son.' Haskins raised his hat to the girl. 'You'll have lots of private things to talk about, I'm sure. I'll be seein' you both again 'fore long.'
'Bring your bloodhounds,' said the Saint, as he escorted the funereal figure towards the house. 'Maybe we can put something up a tree.'
He watched the Sheriff's departure with mixed feelings. It was a remarkably difficult thing to divine exactly what Mr Haskins was thinking or believing at any given time. He had a disturbing faculty for shaping phrases that could hold as much or as little as the hearer's conscience wanted to read into them.
But there was a much more pleasant, if no less problematical, factor to be dealt with immediately; and Simon Templar temporarily dismissed the less alluring enigma with a shrug as he went back to the patio.
She had sat down on the footrest of a deck chair, and she was using a mirror and lipstick to repair the damage he had done to her mouth. He wondered if she also had felt any of the unaccountable breathlessness which had caught him during the infliction of the damage; but if she had, she was a good dissembler. She made him wait until her full lips were again flawless enough for her satisfaction.
Then she said calmly: 'You like very direct methods, don't you?'
'It was the only thing I could think of,' he said, matching her for calm. 'I didn't know you'd met him, and I had to make sure you wouldn't drop any bricks.'
'What made you think I'd respond to your kind of hint?'
'I just hoped.'
'You don't hate yourself very much.'
'Anyone can hope. But I'm not asking you to excuse me. I'd do the same thing again, even if I knew it was hopeless. I found out it was worth it.'
'I'm glad you were satisfied.'
She was packing lipstick and mirror carefully back in her bag.
He regarded her thoughtfully, digging a package of cigarettes out of the pocket of his robe.
'Now,' he said, 'let's ask why you came here.'
'You told me to look you up if I wanted some fun,' she said innocently. 'Well, I've always liked fun. But perhaps our ideas of fun aren't quite the same.'
'Did March send you?'
'Did you think I was lying to that Sheriff? March would be mad as hell if he knew I'd been here.'
'You lied about that drowned boy.' Her eyes were big with ingenuous astonishment. 'I only repeated what Randy told me. I suppose the boy just fell overboard and I didn't notice it. Perhaps they didn't want to tell me about it at the time because it would have spoiled the trip. And if it wasn't true, how else could the body have got there?'
Simon tightened his lips on an unlighted cigarette. 'You lied about me.'
Colour touched her cheeks.
'Wasn't that what you wanted me to do?'
'Of course. But why did you do it?'
'Because I like you.'
'How much?'
'Enough.'
'So you liked Randy enough, too, before I arrived. And when somebody better than me comes along, I can move back into the same museum. It must be a life full of variety.'
'I'm sorry.' Her slim fingers drummed on her knee. 'If you'd be more at home with a Bible Class, I can always go.'
The Saint struck a match.
'I have a sort of weakness,' he explained apologetically, 'for knowing what's going on. A lot of weird things have been happening lately, and a guy can't be too careful My dear old grannie always told me that If you really want me to believe that you just came following me in search of fun, I'll be a little gentleman and stop arguing-out loud. But you seemed to be pretty well in with Randy last night, and you may have gathered that there is some unfinished business between him and me. So I'm going to ask a lot of questions about your change of heart, whether you like it or not. On the other hand, if you've got something else on your mind, let's quit stalling and have it out.'
'Suppose I came here to tell you something?'
'To warn me off?' he said quizzically. 'I've been warned off before.'
'Damn you!' she flashed. 'You wouldn't have to tell me you wouldn't be warned. Anyone would know it You're the Saint-the King of Crime-the magnificent infallible hero! You couldn't be told that you were meddling with something too tough for you. I wouldn't waste my time.'
'Then what?' he inquired equably.
She mastered the temper that went so well with her proud fiery head.
'I might be able to tell you where Haskins found the note that brought him here. I might-'
A whining sound like that of a magnified malignant mosquito zipping between them cut her off. From the direction of the driveway a rifle cracked, sending its echo bouncing out to sea. Frozenly she turned her head and stared at the scar where a mushroom bullet had excavated its own grave in the stucco wall.
Bushes crashed at the base of the palms along the driveway. Simon saw the fluttering movement of the foliage, and heard a squeal reminiscent of a frightened rat, and the sound of a heavy fall. Instinctively he reached for Karen Leith, and was ready to swing her out of the way of whatever might be developing. With her soft figure in the curve of his arm, he stood warily watching the shrubbery.
'You can always find some excuse for this sort of thing, can't you?' she remarked, with commendable sangfroid.
'Its a knack I have,' he said, without a shift of his keen blue eyes.
The nearer oleanders began to sway. They parted, making way for the passage of Hoppy Uniatz's pithecanthropoid physique.
Mr Uniatz clutched a rifle in one hand, and the neck of a denim-clad figure in the other. His homely face was beatific with the consciousness of work well done as he ploughed towards the patio with both his burdens at trail. The worn heels of the lanky captive in his right hand bumped limply along behind him, kicking up little spurts of dust.
He waded through an intervening bed of assorted petunias, leaving a wide swath of destruction behind him, and dumped his prize at Simon's feet with the pleased and playful air of a spaniel bringing in a bird.
'Dis is de lug,' he said. 'He shoots at ya once before I can get to him.'
He swung his foot at the offender broodingly. 'Before you boot him to death,' Simon intervened, 'let's find out if he's got anything to say.'
He released the girl, and inspected the catch with interest. The man was breathing noisily, sucking in gobs of air to replenish the supply which had been temporarily cut off by the clutch of Hoppy's ungentle hand. He stared
