Read Online Saint and the Fiction Makers by Leslie Charteris - Free Book Online

Frederick the Great, or Michelangelo and the Medici … But again I’m getting ahead of myself. You had a trying night, Mr. Klein. Please finish your breakfast at your leisure, bathe if you wish, and when you’re quite ready, please join us in the planning room. I’ll explain everything there. Galaxy—one of your more delightful creations, I must say—will show you the way. In the meantime, if there’s anything we’ve overlooked, or if there’s anything you want, you have only to ask her. Anything at all. Welcome again, Mr. Klein, and good-bye for now.’
    The screen went dark, and the wooden panel slid quietly back across it.
    ‘You hear that, Galaxy?’ Simon called. ‘Anything I want, I’ve only to ask.’
    ‘I heard,’ said Galaxy.
    She emerged eagerly from the bathroom and Simon met her hazel eyes with the magnetic power of his startling blue ones.
    ‘Anything,’ he repeated wickedly.
    Galaxy came towards him.
    ‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked softly.
    ‘A gun.’
    Her lips were suddenly compressed with irritation.
    ‘What a shame,’ she said. ‘Some people don’t know when they have it good.’
    Simon sipped his coffee.
    ‘You realize that if you don’t give me a gun you’re making Mr. Warlock guilty of false advertising. And if this pleasure palace is all as dandy as you people seem to think it is, what harm could a little automatic do? I happen to like playing with guns, and if we’re all here to play I can’t see why we can’t play some games I like.’
    Even Galaxy’s modest brain could distinguish between teasing and seriousness. She stopped pouting and smiled as quickly as the sun might pop out from behind a passing summer cloud.
    ‘You’re sweet,’ she said, ‘but I can’t give you a gun. I’ve already fetched your breakfast, tested your shower, and I’m about to lay out your clothes and anything else you want, so why can’t you just be co-operative?’
    ‘I think I might like it if you called me master,’ he said. ‘As long as I’ve got a slave, I might as well enjoy every last tingle.’
    Galaxy laughed.
    ‘All right, master.’
    Simon got to his feet, touched his lips with his napkin, and dropped the cloth on the table. He put a strong hand on each of her shoulders.
    ‘So now, lovely slave, how about getting me a gun? All I want it for is to defend us against the blokes who’ll be trying to shoot their way in here … to get at you.’
    Her smile faded and her lips parted. Her eyes seemed to grow smoky with anticipation as he leaned near her.
    ‘I can’t, she breathed.
    Simon threw up his hands and turned towards the bathroom.
    ‘Then put me out a clean shirt and a blue suit, would you?’ he said matter-of-factly.
    Galaxy clenched her fists.
    ‘You—’
    Simon lounged at the bathroom door, pointing up at the panel which covered the television screen.
    ‘Naughty,’ he said. ‘Remember, you’re my willing slave, and you’ll learn that as long as my every whim is satisfied instantly I’m absolutely super to get along with.’
    Once more the cloud passed and she laughed.
    ‘Very good, master. You run along and take your shower, and I’ll come scrub your back. My orders are to conserve your energy.’
    ‘You’re too generous.’
    ‘I’ve hardly even started.’
    4
    Forty-five minutes later, the Saint stood before a full-length mirror and studied the fit of his blue trousers and white shirt.
    ‘You must give me the name of Mr. Warlock’s tailor,’ he said, ‘so I can avoid him.’
    ‘They fit quite well,’ Galaxy said. ‘Not knowing what you were like, we had to get it all different sizes. And now you complain!’
    ‘A fit is not just a matter of clothes falling somewhere between too large and too small. It’s a product of art. Mr. Warlock would understand that. He has an aesthetic soul.’
    ‘Well,’ Galaxy replied, giving his shirt a playful but vicious tug, ‘I didn’t choose the clothes. What else can I do for you?’
    Simon