06 Alias the Saint

"One fear breeds another," he said. "All things in a man's mind are linked up. If one cog slips, the whole machine is altered. If you will cheat at cards, you will cheat at snakes-and-laddders. Hallin cheated for life; it was quite natural that he should cheat for love. Because Nigel was Moyna's favourite, Hallin had to try and take away the one little thing that gave Nigel a chance. Because Teddy could have discovered the swindle, he killed Teddy. His fear drove him on, as it will keep on driving him on: it's the most ruthless master a man can have. Now, because he saw me with Teddy at Basingstoke, and then saw me last night leaving Nigel's, he will try to kill me. If he thought Nigel believed me, he would try to kill Nigel--that's why I had to tell the story in such a way that I know Nigel wouldn't believe it Even now, Hallin is wondering...."

"But if Nigel had given up the shares without suspecting anything, and then they'd soared up as Teddy said they would--"

"What would that have mattered?"

"Nigel would have known."

"Known what? Hallin would have said that he sold the shares for the best price he could get, and Nigel would never have thought that it might be a lie. . . . But now--do you remember how I said I wanted to make Hallin live?"

"Yes."

"That was the test--before I knew any of this. I wanted to see what would happen to him if he put aside his joke. I wanted to know what he. would be like if he became an ordinary mortal man--a man to whom death might not be a terror:, but to whom death was still no joke. And now I know,"

With her chin on her hands, Patricia regarded him. Not as she had regarded him when he had spoken of Miles Hallin before; but with a seriousness that wore a smile.

"I shall never get to the end of your mind, lad,'' she said; and the Saint grinned.

"At the moment," he murmured, "I'm enjoying my brandy."

And he actually did forget Miles Hallin for the rest of that afternoon and evening; for Simon Templar had the gift of taking life as it came--when once he knew from what quarter it might be coming.

His impatience disappeared. It seemed as if that talk over the coffee and brandy had cleared the air for him. He knew that trouble was coming; but that was nothing unusual. He could meet all the trouble in the world with a real enjoyment, now that he had purged his mind of the kind of puzzle that for him was gloom and groping and unalloyed Gehenna. Even the reflection that Miles Hallin had still failed to die did not depress him. He had not loosened that wheel in high hopes of a swift and catastrophic denouement, for he had known how slight was the chance that the wheel would elect to part company with the car at the very moment when Hallin was treading the accelerator flat down to the flooring; the thing had been done on the spur of the moment, more in mischief than anything else, just to pep up the party's future. And it would certainly do that.

As for Teal, and Teal's horrific warnings of what would happen if the Saint should again attract the attention of the law--those were the merest details. They simply made the practical problem more amusing....

So the Saint, over his brandy, swung over to a contentment as genuine and as illogical as his earlier impatience had been, and was happy for the rest of that day, and nearly died that night.

He had danced with Patricia at the May Fair, and he had thought that Patricia looked particularly beautiful; and so presently they strolled home arm in arm through the cool lamplit streets, talking intently and abstractedly about certain things that are nobody's business. And the Saint was saying something or other, or it may have been Patricia who was saying something or other, as they crossed Berkeley Square, but whoever it was never finished the speech.

Some instinct made the Saint look round, and he saw the lights of a car behind them swerve suddenly. An ordinary sight enough, perhaps, on the face of it; but he knew by the same instinct that it was not ordinary. It may have been that he had not forgotten Miles Hallin so completely, after all.

He stopped in his stride, and stooped; and Patricia felt herself swept up in his arms. There was a lamp-post close behind them, and the Saint leaped for it. He heard the screech of brakes and tires before he dared to look round; even then he was in time to see the pillar that sheltered him bend like a reed before the impact of the car; and he moved again, this time to one side, like lightning, as the iron column snapped at the base and came crashing down to the pavement.

Then there was a shout somewhere, and a sound of running feet; and the mutter of the car stopped.

Quietly the Saint set Patricia down again.

"How very unfortunate," he remarked. "Dearie, dearie me! ... Mr. Miles Hallin, giving evidence, stated that his nerves had been badly shaken by his smash at Brooklands. His license was suspended for six months."