The Saint and Mr Teal (Once More the Saint)

"No? Well, I'm just interested. This is the first time in my life I ever behaved like a respectable citizen and gave you your break according to the rules, and I'm glad to know how you take it. It'll save me doing any­thing so damned daft again."

Teal stripped the wrapping from a wafer of spearmint with a sort of hard-strung gusto.

"I hope you'll have the opportunity of doing it again," he said. "But this looks like the kind of case that would have interested you in other ways. and I shouldn't be doing my duty if I took everything for granted."

Simon looked at him.

"You're wrong," he said soberly. "I tell you, Teal, when I saw that guy Jones dying, all that went through my mind in a flash. Before he killed Quell-before I came through the door-I'd heard enough to know what it meant. I knew I could have taken him prisoner, made him work the process for me-had all the wealth I wanted. You know what one can do with a bit of persuasion. I could have taken him away from this house and left everything as it was-Quell and the King's Messenger mightn't have been found for weeks, and there'd have been nothing in the world to show that I'd ever been near the place. I could have done in real earnest what Jones was trying to kid Quell he was doing. I could have manufactured gold until I'd built up a balance in the Bank of England that would have been the sensation of the century. I could have played fairy godmother in a way that would have made me safe forever from your well-meant persecutions, Claud. I could have paid off the national debt with one check- my own free gift to Great Britain. With love and kisses from the Saint. Think of it! I could have named my own price. I might have been dictator-and then there might have been some more sense in the laws of this nit-witted community than there is now. Certainly you'd never have dared to touch me so long as I lived -there'd have been a revolution if you'd tried it. Simon Templar-the man who abolished income tax. My God, Teal, I don't think anyone's ever been able to dream a miracle like that and see it within his reach!"

"Well?"

Teal was chewing steadily, but his eyes were fixed on the Saint's face with a stolid attentiveness that had not been there before. Something in the Saint's speech com­manded the respect that he was unwilling to give-it was drawn from him in spite of himself. Simon's sin­cerity was starkly irresistible.

"You know what happened. I passed up the idea. And I don't mind telling you, Claud, quite honestly, that if Jones hadn't died as he did, I should have killed him. There you are. You can use that as evidence against me if you like, because this time I haven't a thing on my conscience-just for once."

"What made you pass up the idea?" asked Teal.

Simon took the cigarette from his mouth, and an­swered with an utter frankness that could have been nothing but the truth.

"It would have made life too damned dull!"

Teal scratched his chin and stared at the toecap of one shoe. The odd man had finished digging out bullets: he dropped them into a matchbox and stood by, listen­ing like the others.

"You know me, Claud," said the Saint. "I was just tempted-just in imagination-for that second or two while I watched Jones die and his bullets were crashing round me. And I saw what a deadly frost it would have been. No more danger-no more risk-no more duels with Scotland Yard-no more of your very jolly back-chat and bloody officiousness as per this evening. Claud, I'd have died of boredom. So I gave you your break. I left everything as it was, and phoned you straight away. There was no need to, but that's what I did. Jones was dead of his own accord, and I'd nothing to be afraid of. I haven't even touched an ounce of the gold-it's there for you to take away, and I suppose if the Quell family's extinct the government will get it and I won't even be offered a rebate on my income tax. But naturally, like the poor dumb boobs you are, you have to sweat blood trying to make me a murderer the one time in my life I'm innocent. Why, you sap, if I'd wanted to get away with anything --"

"It's a pity you couldn't have saved Jones and done what you thought of all the same," said Teal; and the change in his manner was so marked that the Saint smiled. "It might have done the country some good."

Simon drew at his cigarette and hunched his shoulders.