The Saint and Mr Teal (Once More the Saint)

'I took all my money out of the bank,' Nilder was babbling. 'I put it in my wallet. When you telephoned for me to meet you at Mark Lane I hid it behind some books in my flat. I waited an hour for you. When I got back, the door had been broken in and my wallet was empty. That's all there was in it. What d'you mean by taking my money, you --'

With three more unhurried movements Goldman tore the paper across, across, and across again, and trickled the pieces into his wastepaper basket. Then he looked at Nilder again, and there was such an inexorable malignity in his gaze that the other's babbling died away into a strangled silence.

'I didn't send for you to meet me at Mark Lane,' he said; 'I didn't write that note; and I don't know any­thing about your money. Now tell me why you squealed to the Saint.'

Nilder's mouth seemed to go whiter. He took breath in two quick frantic gasps. His mouth was sagging open in a horrible limpness of fear.

'You needn't answer,' Goldman said, with that same slow frozen venom. 'I can read it in your face. You squealed because you're yellow. He slapped your wrist once, and you fell to pieces. That's what a rat like you does. And then you come here with some lily-livered gold-bricking alibi, and hope I'll eat it. What d'you think this is-a kindergarten? What do I do-fall on your neck and kiss you? You louse!'

'I didn't!' Nilder gibbered throatily. 'Don't look, at me like that, Goldman. I wouldn't squeal on you. I wouldn't give you away. I can explain everything, I tell you! Listen to me-'

'Get out!' rasped Goldman, in a sudden hiss of icy savagery. 'Get out of my sight-before I smash that snivelling face of yours into jelly!'

Nilder backed away with a choking gulp. Never in his life had he seen such a bitter malevolence blazing at him out of a pair of human eyes.

'Don't hit me!' he gabbled. 'Don't hit me. I didn't tell anything. I wouldn't double-cross you. Listen, Goldman --'

Ted Orping grasped him by the collar and hurled him back to the door.

'You heard what the boss said,' he snarled. 'Scram!'

Mr. Ronald Nilder had never done anything so un­dignified. He did not even know what the word meant, but the tone in which it was uttered was sufficient explanation. Shaking with a sick terror of what he had seen in Tex Goldman's eyes, he scrammed.

Ted Orping listened to the front door closing. He looked at the man from St. Louis.

'Do I give him the works, boss?'

Tex Goldman lighted his cigar before replying. It was a long time since he had felt any satisfaction in pronouncing sentence of death. In the racket, death was meted out simply as an operation of expediency- without hate, often even with regret. But for this time at least he felt a vindictive sense of justice.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Put him out.'

Simon Templar saw Nilder walking blindly away from the block, and stood up, plunking a half-crown down on his bill. Teal followed him. As they reached the pavement, Ted Orping came out and slipped into the footsteps of the Cosmolite Vaudeville Agent.

'What's happening?' asked Teal.

'Something good and fast,' answered the Saint, 'or I'm no psychologist.'

He led Teal on to join the procession of two. Sud­denly Nilder stopped and hailed a taxi that came crawling past. Orping spun round and gazed into a shop window just quickly enough to escape notice. As soon as Nilder had climbed in, Orping dashed across the road and entered another cab. Simon pulled his hat down over his eyes and sprinted for the nearest rank, dragging the detective after him. They sank onto the cushions breathlessly.

'This is a game of follow-my-leader,' said the Saint, almost merrily.

The three taxis speeded in procession along the Marylebone Road, worked down to Portland Place, crossed Oxford Street, and went down Regent Street. One tour of the Piccadilly Circus merry-go-round, and they cut down into Jermyn Street.

Simon leaned forward and spoke through the tele­phone to the driver.

'Take it easy here.'

The cab in front stopped, and they were stuck behind it. Sitting well back to keep out of sight, the Saint saw Ted Orping pay off the driver and walk on. The cab in front moved on, and they followed slowly after it. Simon saw Nilder's back in the doorway of the house of service flats where he lived: Orping caught up with him in the entrance and gripped his arm. The Saint could only guess what was said, but the two men passed out of sight together.

Simon stopped the taxi, and they got out. He led Teal to the other side of the street.

'This is another wait,' he said, 'but it won't be a long one.'

He lighted a cigarette, though he was not expecting to get more than a few puffs.

Presently he raised his head sharply.

'Did you hear that?'

It had been a sound like two very distant backfires in quick succession; but he knew they were not backfires.

Then he saw Ted Orping coming out, and crossed the road suddenly. Orping did not see him till they were face to face.

'A word with you, Ted,' said the Saint affably. 'Did you make quite sure Ronald wouldn't talk?'

The other gaped at him with a wild, almost super­stitious dread. And then, with a kind of slavering gulp, he turned and ran.