don't suppose you'll beнlieve that, but you can check on it.'
Simon held his eyes and moved to another seat by the teleнphone. He picked up the directory, and found Peggy Warнden's number. He put the telephone on his knee and dialled it.
Lazaroff went on looking at him steadily.
'Hullo,' she said.
'This is Lieutenant Condor,' said the Saint, and his voice was a perfect imitation of the detective's soured and dismal accent. 'There's one thing I forgot to check with you. When you left Mr. Ufferlitz's house last night, did you leave the door unlocked?'
'Why, yes. It was unlocked when I got there. He never locked it.'
'Never?'
'No. He said he always lost his keys, and if a burglar really wanted to get in he'd just break a window or something.'
'When did he tell you that?'
'It was only yesterday, as a matter of fact. But the door was unlocked the last time I went there, to bring him some letters.'
'Had you been there often-of course, I mean on business?'
'Only once before. I just took him some letters one Sunday morning, and he signed them and I took them away with me.'
'Did anyone else know about him never locking the door?'
'I don't really know, Lieutenant.'
'Could anyone have heard him telling you?'
'I suppose so.' She hesitated. 'Those two writers had been in the office-yes, Mr. Lazaroff was still there. But --'
'But what?'
'You don't really think they could have had anything to do with it, do you?'
'I can't make guesses, miss,' he said. 'I'm trying to get facts. Thanks for your information.'
He hung up. Lazaroff and Kendricks were watching him.
'Well,' he said, 'she confirms your story.'
'It's true,' said Kendricks.
'But it only proves that you knew the door would be open- so you could be sure of putting your scheme through.'
'Look, for Christ's sake. We aren't dopes. We've kicked plots around. If we'd really wanted to frame you, we could have done more than that. We could have put you in a much worse spot. We could have left your trademark drawing on Ufferlitz, if we'd killed him, so you'd really have had someнthing to explain. Now don't do another of those lawyer tricks and ask how we know there wasn't a drawing. I'll bet there wasn't, or Condor would certainly have had you in the cooler.'
It was true there had been no drawing; and it was a point. Simon took out a cigarette.
'You don't owe us anything,' Lazaroff said. 'We're screwнballs and occasional heels and a few other things, but we've never murdered anyone or tried to put anyone in a spot like you're in. You call Condor if you want to. Tell him the whole story. Bob and I'll admit it. It won't be much fun for us, but I guess we've got it coming. Anyhow you'll be in the clear.'
'You'd better do it,' said Kendricks resignedly. 'Get yourнself out of the mess.'
'And still leave it looking as if it was just a coincidence, and you guys had nothing to do with the murder.'
'By God,' said Lazaroff, 'we didn't kill Ufferlitz! But you don't have to cover us up. Tell this guy Condor what you think. We can take it.'
His square florid face was screwed up like a baby preparнing to cry. All at once he looked ludicrous and defeated and curiously pathetic, and at the same time desperately sincere.
It had to be genuine. Simon realised it with a hopeless sense of relaxation. Lazaroff with a real crime on his conнscience would have responded in any way but that. He wasn't a dope. He was an irresponsible practical joker and a facile professional story-weaver as well. Between the two characнteristics he would have been glib or indignant or bluffingly calm or angry. He wouldn't have been deflated and frightнened, as if he had pointed a supposedly unloaded gun once too often and heard it thunder in his hand.
Then-it was true. A coincidence that had gotten itself enнtangled with real murder, that had distorted the whole picнture of plotting and motive. Now the Saint was trying to shake his head clear of all the assumptions and misconceptions that had rooted themselves into his mind because he had leapt on to the premise that two things were inseparably reнlated when actually they had no connection at all.
'Give me that drink,' he said. 'I'm going to start trying to use my brain for a change.'
'Let's all have one,' said Lazaroff fervently.
Kendricks went over and switched on the radio. A musical theme ended, and an unctuous announcer began to discourse on the merits of a popular intestinal lubricant.
'How bad a spot are you really in?' Kendricks asked.
'Not so bad yet. I was in Ufferlitz's house when the police came, but I managed to get away. Naturally I didn't tell Condor about having been there. That note would have looked like as bad an excuse for being there as your explanation sounded. So I don't want to drag you into it now, if you'll go on leaving me out.'
'You bet we will. But could Condor find out any other way?'
'You never know. That's why I still want to find the murнderer first.'
'Haven't you any idea now who it was?' pleaded Lazaroff.
The Saint stared at his cigarette. He had to begin all over again. But now things forced themselves into the front of his mind that he had not been able to see clearly before.
The radio said: 'And now, here is Ben Alexander with the news.'
'Good evening, everyone,' said a new voice. 'Before we turn to the European headlines, here's a flash that has just come in. Orlando Flane, the movie star, shot himself at his home at Toluca Lake this afternoon. His sensational rise to world-wide fame began when he was featured in...'
9
APRIL QUEST poured two Martinis from the shaker and sat down beside the Saint. Her beauty still gave him that unнearthly feeling of having stepped out of ordinary life into a dream-the perfect harmony of her dark copper hair, the exнquisite etching of emerald eyes, the impossible sculpture of her features, the way her body flowed into every movement and disturbed the mind with its unconscious suggestion of the fulfilment of all the hungers known to all men.
She said: 'Well, you louse, I suppose you've stopped feeling human so now you feel safe.'
He said: 'That's a sad reward for being a gentleman.'
'Nuts,' she said. 'A gentleman is anyone who does what you want them to do when you want them to do it A swine is the same guy who does the same thing when you don't want him to do it. Or who won't do it when you want him to.'
Simon smiled and tasted his drink.
'You're a philosopher too, darling. Was that why you wouldn't talk to me this afternoon?'
'I didn't want to talk to you in front of all those jerks.'
'That's nice. But afterwards --'
'Then you were on the phone.'
'You must have been in an awful hurry.'
'If you wanted to see me, you knew where to find me. I- I was hoping you would.'
The Saint lighted her a cigarette, and one for himself. He watched the smoke drifting away, and said: 'April, what do you think about Ufferlitz getting bumped off?'
'I haven't thought much,' she said. 'It's just something that happened. He might have caught pneumonia jumping out of a warm bed.'
'Doesn't it make any difference to you professionally?'
'Not very much. I told you I was under contract to Jack Groom. He gets half of what he can sell me for, after he's reimbursed himself for what he's paid me when I haven't been working. So he'll get me another job, just to
