[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
which could not possibly have been rivalled by the steward for whom he was
deputising. The muscles of his back crawled with anticipation of a bullet, but
he had to do it. March stared at him, but he took the light.
"Thank you," he said, and turned his slight puzzled stare to the captain.
Simon surveyed them both.
"You had a chance then," he remarked. "I wonder why you didn't take it? Was
it because you didn't want to shock Karen?" He put the lighter back in his
pocket with the same studied deliberation. "Or did it occur to you that if the
police had to investigate a shooting on board they might dig out more than
you'd want them to?"
"As a matter of fact, Mr March," said the captain placidly, "I was wondering
how many other people he might have told his ridiculous story to. You wouldn't
want to be annoyed with any malicious gossip, no matter how silly it was."
"Perhaps you'd better find out," March suggested.
"I'll take him ashore to the house and do that while we're waiting for the
police."
Probably that was the precise mathematical point at which the Saint's last
lingering fragments of doubt dissolved, creeping over his scalp with a special
tingle on their way out before they melted finally into nothingness.
The dialogue was beautifully done. It was exquisitely and economically
smooth. There wasn't a ragged tone in it anywhere that should have betrayed
anything to any listener who wasn't meant to understand too much-and Simon
wondered whether the girl Karen was in that category. But in those few
innocuous-sounding words a vital problem had been considered, a plan of
solution suggested and discussed, a decision made and agreed on. And Simon
knew quite clearly that the scheme which had been approved was not one which
promised great benefits to his health. What would happen if they got him
safely away into a secluded room in the house, and what that huskily
soft-spoken captain's notions might be on the subject of likely methods of
finding out things from a reluctant informant, were not the most pleasant
prospects in the world to brood about. But he had staged the scene for his own
benefit, and now he had to get himself out of it.
Page 28
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Simon knew that not only the fate of that adventure but the fate of all other
possible adventures after it hung by a thread; but his eyes were as cool and
untroubled as if he had had a platoon of infantry behind him.
"You don't have to worry about me," he said. "But Gilbeck left a letter which
might be much more of a nuisance to you."
"Gilbeck?" March repeated. "What are you talking about?"
'I'm talking about a letter which he thoughtfully left in his house before
you kidnapped him."
"How do you know?'
"Because I happen to be living in his house at the moment."
The furrow returned between March's brows.
"Are you a friend of Gilbeck's?"
"Bosom to bosom." Simon refilled his champagne glass. "I thought he'd have
mentioned me."
March's mouth opened a little, and then an expression of hesitant relief came
over his face.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. He laughed, with what was obviously meant to be a
disarming heartiness. "Why ever didn't you say so before? Then what is all
this business-a joke?"
"That depends on your point of view," said the Saint. "I don't suppose
Lawrence Gilbeck and Justine found it particularly funny."
March plucked at his upper lip.
"If you really are a friend of theirs," he said, "you must have got hold of
the wrong end of something. Nothing's happened to them. I talked to the house
today."
"Twice," said the Saint. "I took one of the calls."
"Mr Templar," said the captain carefully, "you haven't behaved tonight like
one of Mr Gilbeck's friends would behave. May we ask what you're doing in his
house while he is away?"
"A fair question, comrade." Simon raised his glass and barely wetted his lips
with the wine. "Justine asked me to come and be a sort of general nursemaid to
the family. I answer the phone and read everybody's personal papers. A great
writer of notes and jottings, was Brother Gilbeck." He turned back to March.
"I haven't ferreted the whole business out yet, Randy, but it certainly does
look as if he didn't really trust you."
"For what reason?" March inquired coldly.
"Well," said the Saint, "he left this letter I was telling you about. In a
sealed envelope. And there was a note with it which gave instructions that if
anything happened to him it was to be sent to the Federal Bureau of
Investigation."
March sat quite still.
Page 29
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The girl lighted a cigarette for herself, watching the Saint with intent and
luminous eyes.
March said, in an uneven voice: "Better put your gun away, Captain. It's nice
of Mr Templar to come and tell us this. We ought to know more about it.
Perhaps we can clear up some misunderstandings."
"Pardon me, sir." The captain was perfectly deferrential, but he kept his gun
exactly where it was. "We should be more certain of Mr Templar first." He
turned his dry stony eyes on the Saint. "Mr Templar, since you seem to be so
sure that something has happened to Mr Gilbeck, did you carry out his
instructions and mail that letter?"
Simon allowed his glance to shift with a subtle hint of nervousness.
"Not yet. But-"
"Ah, then where is the letter?"
"I've still got it"
"Where?"
"At the house."
"It would be so much better if you could produce it to Mr March and prove
that you're telling the truth." The captain's eyes were as hard and
flickerless as agates. "Perhaps you didn't really leave it at home. Perhaps
you still have it with you."
He took one step closer.
The Saint's left hand stirred involuntarily towards his breast pocket. At
least, the movement looked involuntary-a defensive gesture that was checked
almost as soon as it began. But the captain saw it, and interpreted it as he
was meant to interpret it. He took two more steps, and reached towards the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]