She tilted herself back in the desk chair and blew smoke at the wall in front of her. It was Hoppy Uniatz, removing his mouth temporarily from a glass of whisky, who crashed in where angels might have feared to tread.
'Well,' he said cheerfully, 'who's been rubbed out?'
'I can't get him just now,' said Patricia evenly 'We'll call again before we go to bed. How about a game of poker?'
'I remember,' said Mr. Uniatz wistfully, 'one
time I played strip poker wit' a coupla broads on Toity-toid Street. De blonde one had just drawn to a bob- tailed straight an' raised me a pair of pants------'
The glances which turned in his direction would have withered any man whose hide had less in common with that of the African rhinoceros; but Hoppy's disreputable reminiscence served to relieve the strain. Somehow, the time went on. The girls smoked and talked idly; and Mr. Uniatz, finding his anecdotes disrespectfully received, relapsed into fluent silence and presently went out of the room. After a while he returned, bearing with him a fresh bottle of whisky which he had discovered somewhere and succeeded in abstracting from under Orace's vigilant eye. At half-past eleven Patricia telephoned Hawk Lodge again.
'Mr. Vickery has gone to bed, madam,' said the butler suavely. 'He was very tired and left orders that he was not to be awakened. He wrote you a letter which I have just posted, madam. You should receive it in the morning.'
'Thank you,' said Patricia slowly and rang off.
She turned round serenely to the others.
'We're out of luck,' she reported. 'Well, there's nothing we can do about it. We'll have some news in the morning--and I'm ready for bed.'
'You're very brave,' said Annette, seeing more than Hoppy Uniatz would ever be capable of seeing.
Patricia laughed shortly and put an arm round her.
'My dear, if you'd known the Saint as long as I have, you'd have given up worrying. I've seen him get people out of messes that would make yours look like a flea bite. I've seen him get him-self out of far worse trouble than anything I think he's in now. The man's simply made that way------'
She might have been going to say more, but she didn't; for at that moment a bell rang faintly at the back of the house. Annette looked up at her quickly, and for a second even Mr. Uniatz forgot that he was grasping a bottle of Bourbon which was as yet only half empty. But Patricia shook her head with a very tiny smile.
'Simon wouldn't ring,' she said.
They listened and heard Orace's dot-and-carry footfalls crossing the hall. The front door opened and there was a sound of other feet treading over the threshold. A voice could be heard inquiring for Mr. Templar.
'Mr. Templar ain't 'ere,' Orace said brusquely.
'We'll wait for him,' stated the voice imperturbably.
'Like 'ell you will,' retorted Orace's most belligerent accents. 'You'll wait ahtside on the bleedin' doorstep, that's wot you'll do------'
There were the sounds of a scuffle; and Mr Uniatz, who understood one thing if there was nothing else he understood, gave a surprising demonstration of his right to his nickname. He hopped out of his chair with a leap which an athletic grasshopper might have envied, reaching for his hip. Patricia caught the other girl by the arm.
'Through the bookcase--quick!' she ordered. 'Hoppy, leave the door shut, or we can't open this one.'
She bundled Annette through the secret panel, saw that it was properly closed, and grabbed Hoppy's wrist as he snatched at the door handle again.
'Put that gun away, you idiot,' she said. 'That'll only make things worse.'
Hoppy's jaw fell open aggrievedly.
'But, say------'
'Don't say,' snapped Patricia, in a venomous whisper. 'Get the darn thing back in your pocket and leave this to me.'
She thrust him aside and opened the door herself. Outside in the hall, Orace was engaging in a heroic but one- sided wrestling match in the arms of Chief Inspector Teal and another detective. As she emerged, one of his boots landed effectively on Mr. Teal's right shin and drew a yelp of anguish in response. Patricia's cool voice cut across the brawl like a blade of honey.
'Good-evening--er--gentlemen,' she said.
The struggle abated slightly; and Orace's purple face screwed round out of the tangle with its walrus moustache whiffling.
'Sorl right, miss,' he panted valiantly. 'You jus' wait till I've kicked these plurry perishers down the thunderin' 'ill------'
'I'm afraid they'd only come back again,' said Patricia regretfully. 'They're like black beetles-- once you've got them in the house, you can't get rid of them. Take a rest, Orace, and let me talk to them. How are you, Mr. Teal?'
Mr. Teal glared pinkly at Orace and shook him off. He picked up his bowler hat, which had been dislodged from his head during the melee and had subsequently been somewhat trampled on, and glared at Orace again. He appeared to have some difficulty in controlling his voice.
'Good-evening, Miss Holm,' he said at last, breathing deeply and detaching his eyes from Orace's stormy countenance with obvious diffi-culty. 'I have a search warrant------'
