The Saint and Mr Teal (Once More the Saint)

"The boss says you're to get 'im before eight o'clock, an' 'e don't care 'ow yer do it."

"I'll get 'im if it's possible," growled Tope.

Clem Enright found him unresponsive to a line of conversation about "real men like you an' me, wot means to get wot we goes after," and departed huffily in a few minutes. There was a shabby loafer knocking his pipe out on the bumpers of the car as Enright came out, but Clem paid him no attention. Basher Tope had not noticed him, though he had been hanging around there for half an hour.

Simon Templar only required the street to himself for a couple of minutes to do what he had to do, but it took him all that time to get it.

He had left the house in the packing case in which he had returned to it, but one of his purchases had gone in with him and had not come out again. Patricia Holm stayed there to attend to it.

The shabby loafer shuffled out of Manson Place a quarter of an hour after Enright had gone; and in three quarters of an hour more, by devious routes, he became Simon Templar again. It was as Simon Templar that he rang up Chief Inspector Teal.

"If you've any time to spare, Claud, you might like to get the man who shot your policeman. He's staying in Manson Place, and his present job is to murder me."

"Whereabouts is he?" asked the detective eagerly, and Simon grinned into the mouthpiece.

"What's lighting-up time these days? About seven-thirty, isn't it? ... Well, why don't you blow down to Queen's Gate about then? Hang around the corner of Manson Place and watch for the excitement."

Basher Tope had a boring afternoon, sitting in his window with a loaded rifle on his knee and his eyes glued to the green-painted door out of which he expected his target to emerge. The twilight came down while he watched, and a lamplighter went round the cul-de-sac to confirm the fact that it was getting near the time limit that Tex Goldman had given him.

And then, at seven-thirty exactly, a ground-floor window in the Saint's house suddenly sprang into a square of light.

Basher Tope leaned forward. He could see clearly into the room, which looked like a dining room. At one end of the table, with his back to the window, he could see the head and shoulders of a man in a grey suit who seemed to be absorbed in a book.

Basher Tope turned sideways and cuddled the stock of the gun slowly into his right shoulder.

A knock came on the door of his room. It made him jump, although he knew the door was locked.

" 'Oo's that? "he grunted.

"A gentleman called Smith rang up, Mr. Schwarz,". said his landlady's voice. "He told me to ask you when's Mr. Brown going out."

It was a prearranged message, and it showed that Tex Goldman was getting impatient. Basher Tope showed his teeth.

"Tell 'im 'e go out now."

He listened to the woman's footsteps receding along the hall, and nestled his cheek once more against the stock of his rifle. Carefully he aligned the sights, the fore-sight exactly splitting the V of the back-sight, and the tip of it resting steadily at six o'clock on a point just below where the Saint's left shoulder blade should have been. His forefinger tightened on the trigger. . . .

Plop!

He could see the dark hole made by the bullet, and his target flopped forward. Even so he fired two more shots to make certain-one more to the heart, one to the back of the head. Then he unscrewed the silencer rapidly, folded the gun over its central hinge, and packed it away in a plain black handbag. He unlocked the door and went out to the waiting car. The engine answered the self-starter instantly.

Chief Inspector Teal idly watched the car turn into Queen's Gate; and then he found Simon Templar beside him.

"Well?" prompted the detective.

"That was Basher Tope," said the Saint casually, jerking a thumb after the retreating car. "He's just killed me."

"What d'you mean-he's just killed you?" snapped the detective. "Why didn't you --"

"I mean, he thinks he has. As a matter of fact, he's pumped three bullets into a tailor's dummy with an old coat of mine on, and it fell over when Pat pulled a string. It's too bad about Basher."

Teal looked down towards the Saint's house and saw three splintery stars in the glass of the lighted window. It seemed as if he were about to say something, but he never said it. The crash of an explosion hit the left side of his face like a blow, and he turned quickly. Less than a hundred yards up Queen's Gate he saw the car that had carried the bearded man away swerving wildly across the road, and the whole of one shattered side of it seemed to be hanging loose.

The car jumped the curb, ran across the pavement, and piled itself up with a second crash against a strip of area railings that bent over like reeds under the impact. Passers-by began running towards it, but Teal stood where he was. His baby-blue eyes returned to the Saint's face.

"What does that mean?" he asked.