Read Online Saint Steps In by Leslie Charteris - Free Book Online Page A

built with the kind of
curvacious ripeness in which there is hardly a margin of a pound between perfection and excess. So far she was still within the precarious safety of that
narrow margin, so that her figure was
a startling excitement to observe. Her face
was classically beautiful in a flawless peach-skinned way. She had natural
blonde hair and rather light blue eyes that gave her expression a kind of passionate vagueness.
    “All right, darling,” said the Saint. “I’m in a hurry
too, so we’ll make it easy. Who sent you and what am I supposed to fall for?”   
     
    3
     
    Her face was blank
and innocent.
    “I don’t quite understand. I was just told to get an inter view—— ”
    “Let’s
save a lot of time,” said the Saint patiently. “I know that you aren’t from the AP, and
probably your name isn’t Brown either—but that’s a minor detail. You can put on any act you like
and talk from here to breakfast, but you’ll never get anywhere. So let’s start from here.”
    She regarded him quite calmly.
    “You have very direct methods, haven’t you?”
    “Don’t you think they cut the hell out of the overhead?”
    She
glanced placidly around the room, and observed the potable supplies on the side table. He was aware that she didn’t miss the half-empty glass that Madeline Gray had
left, either.
    “I suppose
you wouldn’t like to offer me a drink.”
    Without answering, he poured a highball and handed it to her.
    “And a cigarette?”
    He gave her one
and lighted it.
    “Now,” he remarked, “you’ve had plenty of time to work
on your story, so it ought to be good.”
    She laughed.
    “Since you’re so clever—you ought to be able to tell me.”
    “Very
likely I can.” He lighted another cigarette for him self. “You are either an Axis
agent, a private crook, or a mildly enterprising
nitwit. You may have fancier names for it, but it comes to the same thing. Once upon a time I’d have laid odds on the third possibility, but just recently I’ve
gotten a bit skeptical.”
    “You make it sound awfully interesting. So what am I here for—as an Axis agent or a private
crook?”
    “That’s
a little more difficult. But I can think of the pos sibilities. You either came here to eliminate me—with or with out outside cooperation—or to get information of
one kind or another. Of course, there
are gentle angles on both of those bright
ideas, as well as the rough and noisy ones. We could stay up all night playing permutations and
combinations. I was just curious to
know what your script was.”
    “And if I don’t tell you?”
    “We’ll just have to play it out,” he said tiredly. “Go
on. Shoot. Give me the opening line.”
    She tilted her
head back, showing teeth as regular as a neck lace
of pearls.
    “I think you’re beautiful,” she said.
    “Thank you.”
    “You talk
just like I imagined you would.”
    “That must be a great relief.”
    “You sound wildly exciting.”
    “Good.”
    “But I’m afraid I’m going to be a great disappointment.”
    “Are you?”
    “I’m afraid I’m only a mildly enterprising nitwit.”
    He went on
looking at her dispassionately.
    “I adore you,” she said.
    “I adore me too,” he said. “Tell me about you.”
    She tasted her
drink.
    “My name’s
Andrea Quennel.”
    It went through him like a chemical reaction, a sudden congealing and
enveloping stillness. In an almost unreal detach ment he observed her left hand. It wore no rings. He
crossed over to her, and calmly
took the purse from her lap and opened it. He found a compact with her initials on it, and didn’t search any further.
    “Satisfied?” she asked.
    “You must be
Hobart Quennel’s daughter,” he said.
    “That’s
right. We came in just as Mr. Devan was driving off after he’d dropped you. He told us about your little excitement this evening. He hadn’t thought anything about
your name, but being a romantic soul of course I had to wonder at once if
it was you. So I