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Authors: Leslie Charteris

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BOOK: The Saint Closes the Case
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The truth should convince Teal. Roger could
tell the truth
so much more convincingly and circumstantially than he could
tell a lie, and it would be so easy to substantiate. Even Her
mann would
find it hard to discredit. And——

“Anyway,” said Teal, “I’ll be
taking you boys along to the
Yard, and we can talk there.”

And the departure to the Yard might be
postponed. The
truth might be made sufficiently interesting to keep Teal
in
Brook Street. And then Norman Kent might arrive—and Nor
man was a
much more accomplished conspirator than
Roger.

“Before we go,” said Roger,
“there’s something you might
like to hear.”

Teal raised his eyebrows one millimetre.

“What is it?” he asked. “Going
to tell me you’re the King
of the Cannibal Islands?”

Roger shook his head. How easy it was! Teal
might have
been the one man in the C.I.D. who would have fallen for
it,
but he at least was a certainty. Such a lethargic man could not -
by any
stretch of imagination be in a hurry over anything— least of all over the
prosaic task of taking his prisoners away
to the station.

“I’ll do a squeal of my own,” said Roger.

Teal nodded.
           

As if he had nothing to do for the rest of the
night, he set
tled himself in a chair and took a packet of chewing-gum
from his pocket.

With his jaws moving rhythmically, he
prompted: “Well?”

“If it’s all the same to you,” said
Roger, to waste time, “I’d
like to sit in a chair. This floor isn’t as
soft as it might be
.
And i
f I could smoke a cigarette——

Teal rose again and lifted him into an
armchair; provided
him also with a cigarette. Then the detective resumed his
own
seat with mountainous patience.

He made no objection to the delay on the
grounds that there
were men waiting for him outside the building. Which
meant,
almost certainly, that there weren’t. Roger recalled that Teal
had the
reputation of playing a lone hand. It was a symptom
of the man’s languid
confidence in his own experienced ability
—a confidence, to give
him his due, that had its justification in his record. But in this case… .

“I’m telling you the truth this
time,” said Roger. “We’re in
the cart—Simon Templar
included—thanks to some pals of
Hermann there—only Templar doesn’t know it. I
don’t want
him to be pinched; but if you don’t pinch him quickly
some
thing worse is going to happen to him. You see, we’ve got Vargan
. But we
weren’t the first raiders. They were Hermann’s
pals——

“Another lie!” interposed Hermann
venomously. “Do you
have to waste any more time with him,
Inspector? You have
already caught him in one lie——

“And caught you sneaking about with a
gun,” snapped
Roger. “What about that? And why the hell am I tied
up here?
Go on—tell him you’re a private detective, and you were
just
going out to
fetch a policeman and give me in charge!”

Teal closed his eyes.

“I can’t listen to two people at
once,” he said. “Which of
you is supposed to be telling this story?”

“I am,” said Roger.

“You sound more interesting,”
admitted Teal, “even if Hermann does prove it to be a fairy-tale
afterwards. Go on, Con
way. Hermann—you wait for your turn, and
don’t butt in
again.”

Hermann relapsed into a sullen silence; and
Roger inhaled
deeply from his cigarette and blew out with the smoke a
brief
prayer of
thanksgiving.

“We went down to Esher to take
Vargan,” he said. “But
when we got there, we found Vargan was
already being taken.
He seemed very popular all round, that night.
However, we
were the party that won the raffle and got him
away.”

“Where did you take him?”

“You follow your own advice, and don’t
butt in,” said Roger shortly. “I’ll tell this story in my own way, or
not at all.”

“Go on, then.”

“We took Vargan—somewhere out of London.
Then Tem
plar and I came back here to collect a few things …How
did you find this place, by the
way?”

“I went to Brighton, and found your motor
agent,” said
Teal comfortably. “All motor agents spend Sunday in
Brighton and the most expensive cars out of their showrooms. That was
easy.”

Roger nodded.

He went on, slowly, with one eye on the clock:

“Hermann’s pals knew we were interested
in Vargan before
the fun started. Never mind how—that’s another story…
.
No, it isn’t—now I come to think of it. You remember the first stunt at
Esher?”

“I do.”

“Two people escaped past Hume Smith’s
chauffeur—a man
and a woman. They were Templar and a friend of his. They
stumbled on
the place by accident. They were driving past,
and they saw a light
and went to investigate. The alarm that
scared them off was
the second man—the giant whose foot
prints you found. I’ll tell you his
name, because he’s the leader
of Hermann’s gang——

Hermann cut in: “Inspector, this will be
another lie!”

Teal lifted one eyelid.

“How do you know?” he inquired
mildly.

“He knows I’m telling the truth!”
cried Roger triumphantly.
“He’s given himself away. Now I’ll tell
you—the man’s name
was Dr. Rayt Marius. And if you don’t believe me, get
hold of
one of his
shoes and see how it matches the plaster casts you’ve
got of the footprints!”

Both Mr. Teal’s chins were sunk on his chest.
He might have
been asleep. His voice sounded as if he was.

“And these people traced you here?”

“They did,” said Roger. “And
on the way they got hold of
the girl who was with Templar that first
night—the girl he’s
in love with—and Marius came to say that he would ex
change her
with Templar for Vargan. But Templar wasn’t
swapping. He wanted
‘em both. We were able to find out
where the girl was being taken, and Templar went off to
rescue
her. I was left to guard the
prisoners—Marius and Hermann
and
another man called Otto. They tricked me and got away
—Marius and Otto—and Hermann was left to guard me.
I
was to be an additional hostage
against Templar. Marius and Otto went off in pursuit—they’d already arranged
for an am
bush to stop Templar on the
road. Marius did that by tele
phone,
from here—you can ring up the exchange and verify
that, if you don’t believe me. And Templar doesn’t
know what
he’s in for. He thinks
he’ll take the men in the house on the
hill
off their guard. And he’s gone blinding off to certain
death——

“Half a minute,” said Teal.
“What house on the hill is this
you’re talking about?”

The tone of the question indicated that the
authentic ring o
f truth in the story had not been lost on Teal’s ears; and
Roger drew a deep breath.

Now—what? He’d told as much as he’d meant to
tell—and
that was a long and interesting preface of no real
importance.
Now how much could he afford to add to it? How great was
the
Saint’s danger?

Roger knew the Saint’s fighting qualities.
Would those qualities
be great enough to pull off a victory against
all the odds?
And would the arrival of the police just after that
victory serve
for nothing but to give the Saint another battle to
fight? …
Or was the Saint likely to be really up against it? Might
it be a
kind treachery to spill the rest of the beans—if only to save
Pat? How could
a man weigh a girl’s safety against the peace
of the world? For,
even if the betrayal meant the sacrifice of
the Saint and himself,
it would leave Vargan with Norman
Kent. And, in case of accidents,
Norman had definite instructions
.

But where was Norman?

Roger looked into the small bright eyes of
Chief Inspector
Teal. Then he looked away, to meet the glittering, veiled
eyes
of Hermann. And, in the shifting of his gaze, he managed to
steal
another glimpse of the clock—without letting Teal see
that he did so
.

“What house on what hill?” demanded
Teal again.

“Does that matter?” temporised
Roger desperately.

“Just a little,” said Teal, with
frightful self-restraint. “If you
don’t tell me where
Templar’s gone, how am I going to rescue
him from this trap
you say he’s going into?”

Roger bent his head.

Unless Norman Kent came quickly, now, and
outwitted
Teal, so that Roger and Norman could go together to the
relief
of the Saint, there would be nothing for it but to tell some
more of
the truth. It would be the only way to save the Saint— whatever that salvation
might cost. Roger saw that now.

“Get through on the phone to the police
at Braintree first,”
he said. “Templar will pass through
there. Driving an open
Hirondel. I’ll go on when you’ve done that.
There’s no time to
lose.
…”

All at once, Teal’s weary eyes had become very
wide awake.
He was
studying Roger’s face unblinkingly.
“That
story’s the truth?”

“On my word of honour!”

Teal nodded very deliberately.

“I believe you,” he said, and went
to the telephone with
surprising speed.

Roger flicked his cigarette-end into the
fireplace, and sat
with his eyes on the carpet and his brain reeling to
encompass
the tumult unleashed within it.

If Norman was coming, he should have arrived
by then. So
Norman had decided not to come. And that was that

The detective’s voice came to Roger through a
dull haze of
despair.

“An open Hirondel … probably driving
hell-for-leather.
… Stop every car that comes through to-night, anyway.

Yes, better be armed… . When you’ve got him, put a guard
in the car
and send him back to London—New Scotland Yard
—at once… . Ring
me up and tell me when he’s on his
way.
…”

Then the receiver went back on its hook.

“Well, Conway—what about this house?”
       
Something choked Roger’s throat for a
moment.

Then:

“We only know it as ‘the house on the
hill.’ That was what
it was called in the letter we found on
Marius. But it’s at——

Zzzzzzing … zzzzzing!

Teal looked at the door. Then he turned
sharply.

“Do you know who that is?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Zzzzzzzzzzing!

Again the strident summons; and Roger’s heart
leapt
crazily. He never knew how he kept the mask of puzzlement
on his
face, but he knew that he did it: the fading suspicion in Teal’s stare told him
that. And he had put everything he
knew into his lie. “
I
haven’t
the faintest idea… .”

But he knew that it could only be one man out
of all the
world;

Hermann also knew.

But Roger gave no sign, and never looked at
the man. It remained a gamble. With Roger telling the truth—and intend
ing, for
all Hermann knew, to go on telling the truth—the
man was in a
quandary. The story that Roger was building up
against himself was
also giving Hermann a lot to answer… .
Would Hermann be wise
and swift enough to see that he
would have a better chance with his unofficial
enemies than
with the police? …

Hermann never spoke.

BOOK: The Saint Closes the Case
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