06 Alias the Saint

He produced a newspaper of the day before, and pointed to a paragraph. She read: "Burglars last night forced an entry into the first floor flat at 202 Cambridge Square, Bayswater, occupied by Mr. Ralph Tregarth and his sister , ., sister away in the country ... bureau broken open ". . . Mr. Tregarth said . . . nothing of value taken..."

"The report was quite correct--nothing of value was taken, except this," said Raxel.

He took a little book from his pocket and handed it over to her. It was her own passport.

"I caused one of my agents in London to obtain it," explained Raxel. "The following morning he took it to the United States Consulate and obtained a visa. There should now be nothing to stop you leaving for Southampton this afternoon. If you are agreeable, Mr. Marring will drive you to Southampton to-night. You can board the Megantic at once, and go to sleep; by the time you wake up, England and all your fears will have been left behind.

Betty Tregarth passed a hand across her eyes.

"I've no choice, have I?" she said. "Yes, I'll go. Will you let me write a couple of letters?"

"Certainly," said Raxel obligingly. "In fact, if you would like to write them now, I will post them myself on my walk through the village this after noon."

"And read them first, I suppose," said the girl cynically, "to see that there's nothing in them to incriminate you. Well, there won't be--you're quite safe. They'll be just ordinary good-bye letters."

Raxel waited patiently while she wrote two short notes--one to her brother, and one to Rameses Smith. She addressed the envelopes and pointedly left the flaps open. Raxel smiled to himself and stuck them down in her presence.

"I don't need to read them," he said. "The fact that you were prepared to allow me to do so proves at once that the precaution is not necessary."

"Will you let me say good-bye to Mr. Smith?" she asked.

Raxel shook his head regretfully.

"I am afraid that is impossible, Miss Tregarth," he said. "It is the only privilege that I am forced to deny you."

She nodded.

"It doesn't matter, really," she said flatly. "I didn't think you'd let me."

"Circumstances forbid me," said Raxel, and put the letters in his pocket. "The car will be ready for you directly after dinner, if not before. You will remain in your room until then. In any case you would be busy with your packing. Good-afternoon."

He left the room, Marring following him, and locked the door again on the outside.

9

At half-past five that afternoon Crantor returned. The Saint heard the car draw up outside the hotel, and opened his window. It was quite dark, but he could hear voices below, and several men seemed to be moving about in the road. Then the car was turned so that the headlights shone seawards, and they began to flicker. Simon read the Morse message: "Send boat." The men did not go into the hotel, but walked about outside, stamping their feet and conversing in undertones. Presently a lamp winked up from the shore, and Crantor's voice could be heard gathering the men together. They set out to cross the patch of waste land that lay between the road and the sea--Simon saw the torch which Crantor carried to light the way bobbing and dipping down towards the edge of the water. He waited patiently and saw lights spring out on the ship.

After some time the light came flickering over the foreshore like a will-of-the-wisp, but it was Crantor alone who crossed the road and entered the hotel.

The Saint was about to close his window when the door of the hotel opened again, and three people came out. They could be seen in the shaft of light that was flung out into the road by the lamp in the hall. One was Raxel, the other Marring, in hat and coat; the third was a muffled figure in furs. Simon realized who it must be, and his lips hardened.

A moment later Tope came out, carrying a couple of heavy suitcases. These he packed into the back of the car. Then the girl walked to the car alone and got into the front seat. Raxel and Marring stood for a few minutes on the doorstep. Their voices drifted clearly up to the listener above their heads. Only four sentences were spoken.

"You have not forgotten to pack your revolver, my dear Marring?"

"Is it likely?"

"Then, au revoir--and a pleasant voyage."

Marring chuckled.

"I shall breakfast with you on Thursday," he said. "Au revoir. Professor"

He went round to the driver's seat and clambered in.

Simon Templar watched the car drive away. Raxel, standing on the doorstep, watched it out of sight also, and then turned and went indoors. The door closed.

"Hell!" said the Saint.