The Saint and Mr Teal (Once More the Saint)

He was not quite sure what he expected to find, but it was certainly not what he saw. He looked at it in silence for several seconds, and then he raised the lid of the other hamper. The contents of that one were the same.

"So it's Tommy guns, is it?" he said quietly. "I wondered when that was coming. And how long have you known Tex Goldman?"

Still Nilder did not answer.

Without losing sight of him for an instant, Simon carried out the hampers one by one and dumped them overboard into the deepest part of the Solent. He came back and lifted Nilder off the sofa by his collar.

"I asked you a question, you horrible little scab," said the Saint. "How long have you known Tex Goldman?"

Nilder shook his head in a dumb travesty of stub­bornness. And the Saint's fist crashed into his mouth and knocked him back against the bulkhead.

"If you don't talk now you won't smile for months," said the Saint equably. "It'll be too painful. I don't like you, and I loathe your trade. How long have you known Tex Goldman?"

Nilder wiped his bleeding lips.

"I don't know him, I tell you. What right have you --"

But in three more minutes he was glad to talk.

"I knew him six years ago, before he went to America. He was flying kites-passing bad checks. He got to know something about a girl I-I found a job for. She was only fifteen, but how was I to know ? It wasn't my fault. ... He was deported. Then when he came back he made me help him. It was blackmail. I didn't want to do it --"

"That's nearly all I want to know," said the Saint. "How many trips have you made so far?"

"This is the first-I swear it is --"

Simon flung him back into a corner.

"That's as much of your voice as I can stand, Ronald -really."

He went and found the small cramped engine room, and drained every drop of oil out of the sumps into an empty two-gallon can which he found. In instalments, he poured it away over the side, without letting Nilder see what he was doing; and then he returned to the saloon.

"I expect you'll be leaving the country as soon as you can," he said. "If it will help you to see the indications for a spot of travel, I may tell you that if I ever see you again the rest of your travelling will be done behind two black horses with flowers round you. And you won't make any complaints about this little voyage before you go, because if I were arrested I should feel fearfully talkative."

"You'll pay for this, you dirty bully!" snarled Nilder furiously. "Goldman will have something to say to you --"

"I shouldn't be surprised," said the Saint contemp­tuously. "Tex has the guts to say it, which you haven't."

He climbed out of the saloon by the after door and hauled up his own motorboat.

Thirty seconds later he was creaming up the river towards Bursledon, while the Seabird drifted on down the Solent on the falling tide.

CHAPTER VI HE was back at Warsash in another twenty minutes, and as he stepped out of his car beside the inn he was just able to catch a sight of the Seabird turning to race up towards the Hamble. Even while he paused to watch it for a moment, the bow wave sank down and the ship's bows began to yaw round as she lost way. Simon grinned happily to himself and went through to the dining room.

He twitched his nostrils appreciatively at the aroma of crisping bacon which greeted him. Three hours in the fresh sea air after the sketchy meal he had swallowed at six a.m., plus a certain amount of useful exercise, had done their full share towards setting up his appetite to its ordinary matutinal proportions.

"I'll have two fried eggs, lots of bacon, and about a quart of coffee," he said to the waitress who had already served him with one breakfast that day. "After that, I might be able to toy with three more eggs, a pound of mushrooms, and a lot more bacon. Go out and tell them to kill the pig, Gladys."

While at least part of his order was being executed he went to the telephone and put another call through to Patricia.

"Hullo, darling," he said. "This is very late for you to be up."

"I have been to bed," said the girl.

"So have I," murmured the Saint breezily. "But not for long. I don't think this early rising is healthy- the prospect of it takes such a lot of kick out of the night before, and I hate having my morning tea by moonlight."

"How did the fishing go?"

"Pretty well." Simon glanced round him cautiously, but there was no one within earshot. "When last ob­served, Brother Ronald was running into a lot of trouble. I ran all the oil out of his engines, and unless he thought of greasing them with his own perspiration they've seized up in a way that'll take days to unstick. The Seabird won't be making any more voyages for a while."

Patricia laughed softly.

"When are you coming home, boy?"

"Well-this is Friday, isn't it? I seem to remember that we have a date for lunch with Claud Eustace Teal. I'll meet you at the Bruton at twelve-thirty."