The Saint Meets His Match (40 page)

One moment he held her
eyes, and then he swung
round and picked up a
newspaper that lay on a side table.

One swift glance down the
page, and he was looking at
the clock.
          

“The
Aquitania
sails
in seven hours,” he said. “I can
get
you to Southampton with hours to spare; and then I
can
work a pull with the company. I’ll guarantee you a
berth——
”

He read his answer in her
face, and flung open the door.

“Orace!” he
shouted, and his man came running.
“Some
sandwiches—a flask—coffee in the thermos. At the
double!
Is the Hirondel full up?”

“Yessir.”
      
.

“Good enough.”

He went through into the
garage, and in another mo
ment the mighty car was
roaring round to. pull up snort
ing at the front door…
. And the Saint returned, as
Mr. Teal, roused by the
commotion, emerged from the
back of the hall.

“Going away?”
asked Teal.

“Just for a drive… . Jill, you’d better have a leather
coat—take this one.
…
That’s the idea… .
I’ll take
those things, Orace.”

He saw the girl into the
car, and came back to fetch
another coat from the
stand. Teal buttonholed him.

“Is this an elopement,
Saint?”

“Now that’s just what
it isn’t, Claud. ….. No, the Old
Pentonvillains
choker, Orace.
…
Anything I can do

for you on the way, Claud
Eustace?”

“If it
is
an
elopement,” said Teal lusciously, “you fixed
it
up quick enough.”

Simon twisted the scarf
round his neck and canted his most piratical hat at its most piratical angle
over his right
eye. And then he tapped the detective
gently on the
shoulder.

“Has it never occurred
to you,” he said, “that one day a
story
might be written in which the heroine didn’t fall in
love
with the hero, and the hero didn’t fall in love with
the
heroine—and they were both perfectly happy in spite of that? Because this is
that story. I am the most superlative story-book hero that ever lived, but the
rules were
not made for me.”

And he took down Teal’s bowler from the rack,
and
clapped it rakishly on the detective’s
head, and pulled
Teal’s ear, and
punched him in, the stomach, and was
gone;
and an echo of Saintly laughter seemed still to hang
in the little hall long after the clamour of the
Hirondel
had died away.

THE
END

Look for the sign of
The Saint
on other
Avon books.