06 Alias the Saint

THE NATIONAL DEBT

In which the Saint disguises himself as a dusty professor in order to save a lovely damsel from the clutches of a sinister conspiracy.

THE MAN WHO COULD NOT DIE

In which the Saint's well known sensitivity to the adventurous possibilities of any situation lead him to pursue the current fortunes of the extraordinary Miles Hallin, a seemingly unimpeachable man about whom it has been said that if Miles Hallin could have walked a tight rope he would have walked a tight rope stretched across the crater of Vesuvius as a kind of appetizer before breakfast.

Don't miss other Charter titles in the Saint series:

THE SAINT ABROAD

THE SAINT AND THE PEOPLE IMPORTERS

VENDETTA FOR THE SAINT

CATCH THE SAINT

THE SAINT AND THE HAPSBURG

NECKLACE

THE AVENGING SAINT

ALIAS THE SAINT

LESLIE CHARTERIS

CHARTER

NEW YORK

A DIVISION OF CHARTER COMMUNICATIONS INC.

A GROSSET & DUNIAP COMPANY

ALIAS THE SAINT

Copyright Š1931 by Leslie Charteris

All rights reserved.

Published by arrangement with Doubleday & Co., Inc.

Charter Books

A Division of Charter Communications Inc.

A Grosset & Dunlap Company

360 Park Avenue South

New York, New York 10010

2468097531

Manufactured in the United States of America

CONTENTS

THE NATIONAL DEBT ..........................1

THE MAN WHO COULD NOT D1E.....99

THE NATIONAL DEBT

1

On a certain day in November three men sat over the remains of dinner in the Italian Roof Garden of the Elysion Restaurant.

Outside, a thin drizzle of sleet and rain was falling. It lay like glistening oil on the streets, and made the hurrying throngs of pedestrians turn up the collars of their coats against the cold, and huddle numbed hands deep into their pockets. But in the Roof Garden all was warmth and light and colour. In the high dim glass roof overhead, softly tinted lights gleamed like bright artificial stars; and an artificial moon shone in the centre of the dome. Vine-decked loggias surrounded the room, and the whole of one wall was covered with a beautifully executed fresco of a Mediterranean panorama, bathed in sunshine. The Elysion had a reputation for luxury, and its Italian Roof Garden was the most elaborately comfortable of all its restaurants.

The three men sat at dinner in an alcove. The curtains of the window beside them were drawn, and they could look onto Piccadilly Circus, a striking contrast to the sybaritic warmth of the room in which they were, with gaily coloured electric sky-signs flashing and scintillating through the wet.

The meal was over; and in front of each man were a cup of a coffee and a glass of the 1875 brandy of which the Elysion is justly proud, served in the huge-bowled bottle-necked glasses which such a brandy merits. They smoked long, thin, expensive cigars.

The man at the head of the table spoke.

"By this time," he said, "you are justly curious to discover how many of my promises I have fulfilled. It gives me great satisfaction to be able to tell you that I have fulfilled them all. Every inquiry has been made, and every necessary item of information is docketed here." He tapped his forehead with a thin forefinger, "My plans are complete; and now that you have tasted the brandy, which I trust you find to your liking, and your cigars are going satisfactorily, I should like your attention while I outline the details of my project."

He was tall and spare, with a slight stoop--you would have taken him at first glance for a retired diplomat, or a university professor, with his thin, finely cut face and mane of gray hair. He looked to be about fifty-five years of age, but the very pale blue eyes under the shaggy white eyebrows were the eyes of a much younger man.

"I'm waiting to hear the story, Professor," said the man on his left.

He was squat, bull-necked, and blue of chin; and his ready-made evening clothes seemed to cause him considerable discomfort.

The third man signified his readiness to listen by a silent expressive gesture with the hand that held his cigar. This third man was small and perky, his hair muddily gray and in the state tactfully described by barbers as "A little thin on top."

A long, scraggy neck protruded from a dress collar three sizes too large.

"It is quite simple," said the man who had been addressed as "Professor"; and leaned forward.

The other two instinctively drew closer.

He spoke for three quarters of an hour, and the other two listened in an intent silence which was broken only by an occasional staccato query, a request for a repetition, or a demand for more lucid explanation of a point which arose in the recital. The Professor dealt smoothly with each question, speaking in a low, well-modulated voice; and at the end of the forty-five minutes, he knew that the alert brains of the other two had grasped the essential points of his plan and adjudged it for what it was--the scheme of a genius.

"That is the method I propose to adopt," he concluded simply. "If either of you has any criticism to make, you may speak quite freely"