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anything to say. Or any other time I've got a few seconds to spare for a chat.
I only wish I had the time to spare now, Christine."
He held her hand for a moment longer; and there was something in his smile
which seemed quite apart from the only life in which she had ever known him.
The gay zest of adventure was still there, the half-humorous welcome to
danger, the careless confidence -in his own lawless ways that made up so much
of his fascination; but there was something else, something like a curious
regret that she was too young to understand. And before she could ask him
anything else he was gone.
"Why the rush?" asked Keena, as Simon drew him down the stairs.
"For fifteen million reasons which I can't stop to tell you about now. But you
know something about me, and you know the sort of troubles I get into. If you
don't know any more than that it may be healthier for you."
"I read something in the Prensa about an outbreak of gangsterismo --"
"So did I, but that was the first I'd heard of it." Simon stopped at the foot
of the stairs and grinned at him. "Now you'll have to be content with that
until I've got time to give you the whole story. You can go back upstairs for
just long enough to settle the girl in and see that she knows where everything
is. Then you hustle back to your office and carry on as if nothing had
happened. She's not to show her face outside this place, and you're not to
behave as if you'd got anyone here; so you can stop wondering where you're
going to take her to dinner. You find yourself a nice respectable hotel, and
if there are any questions you can say your apartment's being painted. You
don't say a word about Christine, or about me for that mat-ter. Do you get the
idea?"
"I think it's a lousy idea," Keena said gloomily.
The Saint chuckled and opened the front door.
"It 'll grow on you when you get to know it better," he said. "We'll get
together later and talk it over."
He had kept his taxi waiting, and a moment later he was on his way again. As
they approached the Casino building he slid down in the seat until he was
invisible to anyone who might have been lounging about the square, and told
the driver to take him round to the corner of the Calle Doctor Allart-he had
taken note of the name of the street behind the hotel when he went out with
Christine.
The driver looked round at him blankly, narrowly missing a collision with a
tram in the process.
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"¨D¢nde est ?"
Simon explained the position of the street at length, and comprehension
gradually brightened the chauffeur's face.
"Ah!" he said. "You mean the Calle el Sol."
"It has Calle Doctor Allart written on it," said the Saint.
"That is possible," said the driver phlegmatically. "But we call it the Calle
el Sol."
He stopped at the required corner, and Simon got out and paid him off. He
walked on towards the rear entrance of the hotel. There was a car parked in
front of it, on the opposite side of the road; otherwise the street was
deserted. The car seemed to be empty, and he knew at once that it bore no
resemblance to Graner's gleaming Buick. It was curious that he should have
overlooked the possibility of there being two cars in Graner's garage. The
Saint had just put his hand on the door when he heard a step behind him, and
before he could turn he felt the firm pressure of a gun barrel under his left
shoulder blade.
"Don't do anything silly," said a soft voice. The Saint turned his head.
It was the elegant Mr Palermo.
VI
How Simon Templar Ate without Enthusiasm,
and Mr Uniatz Was Also
Troubled about His Breakfast
THE RAIN which had been threatening all the morning was starting to come down
in a steady miserable drizzle; and under its depressing influence the street,
which could never in its existence have been a busy thoroughfare vibrating
with the scurry of bustling feet, had taken on an even sadder and emptier
appearance. Simon looked warily up and down it. About a block and a half away
one lone man was shuffling in the opposite direction, too loyal to his
national traditions to bustle even before the prospect of a soaking; apart
from him there was no other soul in sight except Aliston, who had become
visible at the wheel of the car.
"Forget it," said Palermo, reading his thoughts. "You haven't a hope." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]