2 He turned and went back into the hotel with the humour dancing again in his eyes. And yet he wasn't letting himself be led astray by a single overoptimistic delusion. He had only taken the first round, and there were a hell of a lot still to go. But the joy was to be in the fight, to be playing a lone hand in the most dangerous game in the world, the game which meant more to him than his own life.
He went up to the desk and buttonholed the wavy-haired boy.
"I am not leaving today," he said in fluent Spanish. "So you need not worry about making out that bill. . . . There is something else. It is possible that somebody may be making enquiries about me here. If they aren't enquiring about me, they may be enquiring about the lady for whom I took the room next to me last night."
"Si, seńor. I will tell them."
"That's just what you won't do. If anybody starts asking any questions, you'll remember that I have nothing to do with the lady next door. I don't know, her. I have never heard of her. I didn't bring her here. żComprende?"
"Si, seńor."
"Apart from that, you will not talk about me at all. Except that if anybody mentions it, you can say that I don't speak Spanish."
"Pero usted --"
"I know. I speak it better than you do, but I don't want anyone to know. żEstamos ?"
"Si, seńor."
Simon spread a hundred-peseta note on the counter.
"Perhaps that will help you to remember," he said, and went upstairs.
In his room, Christine was still sleeping, but he only glanced at her. He went across to the window and looked down through the shutters into the square. Graner's car was just driving off, and Simon realised that Graner himself must have taken the wheel, for the chauffeur stood on the pavement and watched the car move away. Then he strolled across to the opposite side of the plaza, propped himself up against the corner of the Casino building among the other idlers who were standing around, unfolded a newspaper from his pocket, and began to read.
Simon poured the remainder of Christine's drink into the washbasin, and picked up Graner's glass, which had been left untouched.
Then he remembered that he had been so confident in his deduction of what had happened to Hoppy and Joris that he hadn't even troubled to check up on it. He put the glass down and went out again.
The door of Hoppy's room was not locked. Simon went in and found the key on the inside. The room was empty, as he had expected. Mr Uniatz' pajamas formed a palpitating splodge of colour on the bed that Joris had slept in, and the old man's clothes were gone. Simon surveyed the rest of the room without finding any other clues. There were no traces even of a mild scrimmage; but the one mysterious fact was a tray laid with two breakfasts which stood on the table. Nothing on it had been touched. Simon frowned at it for some moments before the explanation dawned on him. He leaned over the bed and rang for the chambermaid.
She arrived promptly after he had rung three times.
"Did you see my friend when you brought the breakfast?" he asked.
"No, seńor."
"żComo que no?"
"Because another gentleman took it. He had on a white coat like a camarero, and he said that he wanted to take it in for a joke. I gave him the tray, and I went away when he was knocking."
"Was he a little man with a small moustache and a black eye?"
"No, he was tall and fair, like an Englishman. He had a graze on his face."
The Saint nodded slowly. It was simple enough, really-after it had been done.
"I may take the tray?" asked the woman.
"Go ahead. And you can do the room at the same time."
At least there was nothing to be gained by giving her any more to gossip about.
He went back to his own room, and when he opened the door Christine was sitting up. Her mind was still clouded from the aftereffects of the drug he had given her, and he saw the understanding creep gradually into her eyes as she stared at him. He closed the door behind him and smiled at her.
"I owe you an apology," he said. "It's the first time I ever gave a girl a drink like that."
She shook her head, as if to try and clear away some of the mists from her brain.
"What did you do it for?" she asked huskily.
"It was either that or clipping you under the jaw, and I thought the drink would be kinder," He crossed over to the bed and sat down beside her. "Does it feel very bad?"
She rubbed her eyes stupidly.
"My head's splitting. . . ."
"We can fix that in no time."
He went to his suitcase and found another bottle, from which he tipped a spoonful of powder into a glass of water.
"I keep this for when Hoppy starts complaining about what a good time he had the night before," he explained. "But it's just as good for what you've got."
She looked at the glass without moving.
"There's nothing wrong with it," he said. "If I'd wanted to keep you under I'd have given you something stronger in the first place."
The girl shrugged.
"It doesn't seem to matter," she said. "I'd rather be asleep again than have this head."
He took the glass away from her after she had finished the draught, and put it down. She lay back and closed her eyes again with a grimace, and the Saint lighted a cigarette and left her alone. With the drink he had just given her, the muzziness and the headache would pass off quickly enough.
"I was a fool to drink that whiskey," she muttered. "But you wait till I feel a bit stronger. I'll make a noise then-if you haven't put me to sleep again."
"But you're feeling better already."
"Maybe I'm not going to die, if that's what you mean."
"Then just wait till you're quite sure about it, and we'll go on talking. You can still scream the roof off if you get tired of listening."
"That's what you said before."
"But Reuben was here then."
Her eyes opened, and she looked quickly round the room. Her breath came a little faster.
"Yes-he was here. . . . Where is he?"
"I sent him home."
"Did he have the same sort of drink that I had?"
The Saint shook his head.
"I wouldn't give you the sort of drink I should mix for Reuben if I had a free hand," he said. "No-I just told him to push off and he pushed off. Like a lamb. He's really quite docile when you know how to handle him. Weren't you watching me all the time before you went to sleep?"
She struggled up on her elbow.
"But he'll be back-he'll come back with the others --"
"No, I don't think so. Not just yet, anyway. We parted like brothers. I even gave him back his gun."
She brushed the copper-gold hair back off her face, her brows knitted with the effort to grasp his meaning.
"Let's begin at the beginning," he said. "After I left you last night I went out to put the car away. Once I was in the car, I found that the damn thing was taking me up to Graner's. I couldn't help it. It's that sort of car. Crazy. Maybe it caught the disease from me-I don't know. Anyway, once I got to the house I figured I might as well have a look round. I looked round. They certainly do make it difficult for a bloke to climb over their wall."
"I could have told you --"
"But you didn't. Never mind. I found out for myself. So, since I couldn't get over the wall, I had one of my strokes of genius. After having tooled all the way out there, it seemed pretty silly to come home again without doing anything. So I rang the bell. Did you ever hear of anything brighter?"
"I think you must have been crazy."
"That's what I thought. Anyway, Graner let me in. And just as we were going into the house I heard Lauber in the middle of an argument with the other two. He was saying-I can tell you his very words- 'I never had the blasted ticket. I was hunting through Joris' pockets for it when that swine jumped on me. If anybody's got it, he has.' "
"You heard Lauber say that?" she stammered incredulously. "But you know --"
He nodded.
>
"Of course I know. But that was Lauber's story, and from what I've heard he's sticking to it. Didn't you hear Graner say that he'd put a man to watch the shop where the ticket came from, in case anybody tried to cash it?"
Talking about Graner reminded the Saint that he had put Graner's drink down when he went out to Hoppy's room. He fetched it and returned to the bed.
"What else did they say about it?" she asked.
"Nothing. The subject was dropped when I walked in. Reuben asked me a lot of questions, and ended up by telling me that I wasn't to come back here. I don't think he suspected me, but he just didn't want me knocking around Santa Cruz where I might hear too much or talk too much. I argued about it, but I had to stay."
He told her about his other experiences the night before, about the story he had read in the newspaper at breakfast, and about the introduction to his duties which had followed, talking in the same crisp, vivid phrases that smacked home every vital detail like bullets; until he reached the point where he had walked into the room with Graner and found her there.
"You know the rest," he said.
"But where is Joris?"
"Tell me what you know."
"I awakened rather late," she said. "About ten o'clock I went and listened at the door, but I couldn't hear anything, and I didn't want to disturb them if they were still asleep. I couldn't hear anything in your room, either. I got dressed and sent for some breakfast, and presently I went back again. I still couldn't hear anything, so I knocked on the door. They didn't answer. I went on knocking until I got scared and opened the door. There wasn't anyone there. I rushed back here, and when you didn't answer either I came in. I saw that your bed hadn't been slept in, and I simply flopped. It was only a moment or two before you came in. That's why I was sitting on your bed. I just went weak in the knees and couldn't stand up for a bit. I didn't know what to think or what to do."
"Don't you know what to think now?" said the Saint reluctantly.
He found her touching his hand.
"But Graner said they hadn't found Joris."
"They haven't-so far as he knows," said the Saint. "But remember what I told you about Lauber. A thing like that spreads, once it starts."
"But do you know?"
"I know this. Hoppy sent for breakfast this morning, before you were awake. I'd told him not to open the door to anybody, but I suppose he didn't think he was meant to starve. He didn't see any harm in having breakfast. The chambermaid brought it; but another guy who answers to Aliston's description met her at the door and said he wanted to take it in for a joke. Probably he gave her some money to make the joke seem funnier. She let him do it. He was wearing a white waiter's coat, and Hoppy wouldn't have thought anything of it. Aliston could easily have cracked Hoppy over the back of the head with something; and once Hoppy was out, Joris wouldn't have given them any trouble."
Her fingers tightened over his.
"You ought to have let me stay with him," she whispered.
"It wouldn't have done any good if they'd taken you at the same time."
"I could have looked after him. . . . But why didn't they take me?"
"Because they didn't know. Joris came in with Hoppy last night, and you came in with me some time afterwards. They'd have been asking for you first, and that night porter is so dumb that he wouldn't have connected the two. He didn't even know that Hoppy and I had any connection. Probably they expected to find you with Joris, anyhow. When they didn't find you, they probably didn't want to waste any more time looking for you. Graner was waiting for them to call him, and as far as they were concerned Joris and Hoppy were the important people. So I guess they left it at that."
She was silent for quite a long while, but no more tears came into her eyes. He could guess what she must be feeling, but she gave no outward sign. There was an inward strength in her which he had still not measured completely. When she looked at him again, she had herself completely under control.
"So you think Aliston and Palermo have joined up with Lauber to double-cross Graner?"
"I don't think that for a minute. I think it was just that suspecting Lauber put the idea into their heads. And if they were out to do any double-crossing, why should they cut Lauber in? Why not keep it all to themselves? They've got Joris now, and they'll start by trying to find out something about the ticket from him and Hoppy. If the trail turns back to Lauber again, they'll go after him."
"And what about Graner?"
"He may start getting some suspicions of his own, and if he does he'll do something about them. It's just an open competition to see who can do the fastest and smartest double-crossing."
"How much are you doing?"
The Saint met her eyes steadily over his cigarette.
"Now you're coming to that drink I gave you," he said.
He gave her a full account of his conversation with Graner after she had gone to sleep, leaving nothing out. She was watching him all the time, but his recital never faltered.
"I couldn't have got off a quarter of that in front of you," he said. "You can see that, can't you? As far as Graner's concerned, you've got no reason to trust me any more than you'd trust the rest of his gang; so apart from everything else, I had to put you out before he began to wonder why you kept so quiet when I was talking."
"So you told him that you were going to tell me just about what you've told me now-to try and make me think you were on my side?"
He nodded without hesitation.
"Yes."
3 "I think I'm well enough to smoke a cigarette," she said.
He gave her one, and a light. She went on looking at him, with detached and contemplative brown eyes. He knew that he was being weighed in the balance, and knew just how much there was against him at the other end of the scales. It was even more than he had to overcome when he made the original suggestion to Graner; but he faced the ordeal without a trace of anxiety. Whichever way the verdict was fated to fall, so let it be.
"Do you think Graner believed you?" she asked noncommittally.
"I'm hoping so. At all events, he acted as if he did. And there's no reason why he shouldn't. He thinks I'm intending to work for him; he thinks I value my share in his other boodle more than a difference in my share of the ticket; he knows nothing against me, he's got my passport --"
"Your passport?"
"Yes. He asked for it, just for insurance, so I gave it to him to keep him happy. It's quite a good one, but I've got plenty more-only he doesn't know that. . . . Maybe he has some suspicions about me-I don't know-but the worst you can call them is suspicions. So long as he hasn't any proof, it doesn't make much odds. I've got the bulge."
She said: "Do you think I believe you?"
He moved his shoulders in the faintest sketch of a shrug.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me, Christine."
She turned her cigarette in the ash tray, making random patterns in the ash. For a while she didn't give him an answer.
Then she looked at him again, and he realised that the detachment had gone from her eyes. He would have liked a brush and palette and canvas, and the time and talent to capture the tilt of her chin and the expressive arch of her brows. He had been aware of her beauty from the first moment he saw her, but he had not felt it so deeply before now. And yet her conscious parade of it had some of the pathetic simplicity of a child; and it was with the same childish simplicity that she said: "Don't you think I could give you more than Graner ever could?"
He tried not to look too much at the soft curve of her lips and the elusive temptation of her eyes.
"He's not very beautiful, is he?" he said lightly.
"I'm beautiful."
The sheer silk of her dress brought out the lines of her long slender legs as she swung them off the bed. She stood over him, her hands resting on her hips; the silk clung to her waist and moulded the pattern of her firm young breasts. She was all young desire, infinitely desirable. . . . He did not want to think about that.
; "I must be," she said, with the same innocent soberness. "Do you know I was only sixteen when they brought me here? I've seen them watching me as I grew up. I've seen them wanting me. Sometimes they've tried; but Joris could still help me a little. I learnt to keep them away. But I knew I couldn't keep them away always. You may be the same as they are, but you don't seem the same. I shouldn't mind so much if it was you. And if it would help Joris ... if you helped him, I would give you anything you want. . . ."
"That isn't necessary," he said roughly.
He got up quickly, without looking at her, and went to the window. He stood there for a time, without speaking, looking down into the square without seeing anything, until he felt he could trust himself to face her again. When he turned round at last, he had taken everything out of his eyes but the preoccupation of the adventure.
"The first thing you've got to do is to get out of here," he said. "Graner's been sent home for the moment, but we don't know what's going to happen next. And I'd rather you weren't around when it does happen."
"But where else can I go?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He thoughtfor a moment. "Last time I was here, there was a fellow -- Wait a minute."
He skimmed rapidly through the telephone directory; and some time later, after he had managed to get the attention of the hotel operator, and the hotel operator had managed to wake the exchange out of its peaceful slumbers, and the exchange had made careful investigations to assure itself that there was such a number, he secured his connection.
"Oíga-żestá allí el seńor Keena? . . . David? Well, the Lord's name be praised. This is Simon. . . . Yes indeed. . . . Yes, I know I said you'd never see me again in this God-awful hole while there was any other place left on earth to go to, but we haven't time to go into that now. Listen. I want you to do something for me. Have you still got your apartment? . . . Well, how'd you like to turn out of it for a lady? . . . Yes, I'm sure you can't see why, but how d'you know she'd like you ? . . . Anyway, it's just one of those things, David. And it is important. I'll tell you all about it later. She can't go to a hotel. . . . That's grand of you. . . . Will you meet us there in about five minutes? . . . Okay, fella. Be seein' ya!"
18 The Saint Bids Diamonds (Thieves' Picnic) Page 11