'I haven't the vaguest notion where Julia is,' said the Saint immediately. 'But I expect Garthwait could tell us.'
'Because he helped you take her away,' chattered Jeffroll.
'You're wrong there,' said the Saint, as equably as he could. 'I've told you that I had nothing to do with it. Will you tell me when you think she was taken?'
The landlord's white tragic face was in grotesque contrast to the murderousness of his eyes.
'You know that. You let Garthwait out of this office-you only pretended to fight him because you thought we'd be taken in by you. You took her away between you, last night. You took your car out of the garage----'
'You saw that when you came out to drive a lorryload of earth from your tunnel down to the quay and tip it into the harbour,' said the Saint.
If he had expected to cause a sensation with that blunt challenge, he was disappointed. Not one of the men showed any more reaction than if he had shown that he knew the hotel had a thatched roof; and Jeffroll babbled on: 'You took her away in your car, and then Garthwait telephoned this morning-------'
'This is wasting time,' snarled Voss. 'Let him do the talking, old man; and if he doesn't talk we'll see what we can do to make him.'
'I'm waiting for a chance to talk,' retorted the Saint curtly. 'I guess there are plenty of explanations to be made, and I don't want to waste time either. I'll put my cards on the table and trade them for yours, if you can stop making damn fools of yourselves for five minutes.'
'Get on with it, then,' said Portmore. 'And don't call me a damn fool again, or I'll hurt you.'
Simon looked him in the eyes.
'Hitting a man who can't hit you back would naturally prove you weren't a damn fool, wouldn't it?' he said icily.
'Oh, leave him alone, Portmore,' drawled Weems. 'Let's hear what he's got to say first.'
'Thanks.' Simon held the Major's gaze as long as the other would meet it; then he relaxed against the wall. 'What I've got to say won't take long. To start with, my name isn't Tombs. It's Templar-Simon Templar. You may have read about me in the newspaper sometime. I'm called the Saint.'
This time he did get a reaction; but for about the first time in his life he did not pause to bask in the scapegrace glow which his own notoriety usually gave him.
'I came down here because I heard there was something mysterious going on, and poking my nose into mysterious goings-on is my business. I'd never met Garthwait in my life, never heard of him, till we had that argument in the bar last night and I pushed his face in. I know most of the crooks in this country, but I can't know all of them. I came prowling about last night because I heard noises, and I found Garthwait tied up in here-----'
'And let him out.'
'No. I admit it was my fault that he got out, but it was unintentional. I opened the door with a pair of wirecutting pliers, and I left them behind, accidentally, when I went out again. Before that, he'd told me that he was supposed to meet a guy on the Axminster road, and that this guy would give me ten thousand quid to let him loose--from the way he talked he seemed to think I was one of your party. I pushed off to keep the date with this guy------'
'And he gave you ten thousand pounds to let Garthwait go,' said Voss flatly.
Simon shook his head.
'He didn't-for one reason, because he was a bit wiser in sin than you fellows, and he recognised me.'
'But you'd have done it if he had given you ten thousand pounds.'
'I don't know,' said the Saint candidly. 'It isn't my party anyhow, and I've a pretty open mind; but on the whole I doubt it. Anyway the question doesn't arise. I went out to keep this date because I was hoping to collect some more information on this racket you've got here. On account of the guy on the road recognising me, I didn't get much more than a couple of bullets whizzing past my ear; but I did hear his voice, and I've heard it again this morning. I can't help it if you think this is a tall story, but the guy on the road- Garthwait's pal-was your lawyer friend who just called.'
There was a moment's silence; and then Weems sniffed loudly.
'Oh, quate,' he said; and Simon Templar, who reckoned that he himself could do almost anything with his voice, had to acknowledge that he had never heard such a quintessence of sneeringly bored incredulity expressed in two syllables.
'You're the worst liar I've ever listened to,' rasped Portmore, more crudely. 'Why, you bloody crook!-Yestering told us you'd probably have some slippery story----'
'I notice he didn't stay to listen to it,' said the Saint.
For a second he had them again; and in that second he got several things straight. Yestering hadn't taken such an insane risk after all-the lawyer had simply come to the hotel with two strings to his bow and an arrow on each of them, ready to use whichever one his reception told him to. If it had been hostile, he would have known at once that the Saint really was in cahoots with the inn garrison; but Julia Trafford would still remain as an effective hostage. The reception having been friendly, Yestering would have realised that the Saint was sitting in with a lone hand: to pass on the job of getting rid of him to Jeffroll & Co. was the most elementary tactical development. But there was one thing the lawyer had forgotten-or, rather, had never known about-one cogent argument that might still be thrown in in time to break the back of Jeffroll's insensate vengefulness before his fear drove him too far beyond the reach of reason. Seizing his momentary advantage without relaxing a fraction of his iron restraint, the Saint used it.
'I can give you a certain amount of proof,' he said. 'It doesn't back up every word I say, but it's something. I didn't come down here entirely off my own bat. I was asked to come-by someone on the spot who was definitely worried about what was going on.'
'Who was that?' asked Voss sceptically.
