Read Online The Saint and the Hapsburg Necklace by Leslie Charteris, Christopher Short - Free Book Online

concurred, with a reservation.
    “Almost anything. I can’t stand roller
coasters, or those other machines that spin you around in three or four
directions at once. I’m afraid you’ll never see me having a big
time in the
Prater.”
    “That is childish stuff, fit only for
the Viennese who are all children at heart. That’s what makes them so
dangerous. They
are loving, happy, and utterly ruthless, like children. You and I are adults. I think we understand each other, yes?”
    “I might understand you better,”
said the Saint levelly, “if I really knew anything about you.”
    “I thought I had told you a lot, for such
a short ac quaintance.”
    “Not about yourself.”
    “Do I seem such a mysterious
personage?”
    “It’s a bit of a mystery to me,”
said the Saint bluntly, “how a man who makes such mistakes as you
have can be as successful as you’ve obviously been. Or expect to go on
getting away with it.”
    “What mistakes, for instance?”
    “For instance, assuming that the
Gestapo wouldn’t be wise to your back garage exit.”
    “I still think it was true at the time.
I did not say they would never find it.”
    “But it was a bad under-estimate, all
the same. Now, you were sure that the Malffy Palais wasn’t being watched,
at least tonight.
Perhaps because they were waiting for Frankie at your flat. But they know you’re involved in the Necklace busi ness with her. The Rat used your name when he
started to question me. So why
wouldn’t they know about this country place
of yours? Why are you sure they’re such an inefficient lot, this Viennese Gestapo?”
    Max shrugged.
    “The Austrians are not a very efficient
race. But we do get things done all the same. You may remember the old joke in the War.
‘The situation in Berlin is serious but not hopeless. The situation in
Vienna is hopeless but not serious.’ That re ally sums up our
national character.”
    “But you lost the War.”
    “In a sense, yes. But we made a very
good recovery. And when Hitler took over this year he did so because he wanted our gold
reserves, which were amongst the highest in Europe —better, I believe, even
than those of England.”
    The Saint did not reply for a long while.
When he finally spoke it was thoughtfully.
    “And still you haven’t given me the
answers. You just come out as a charming and delightful chap, and
probably a thorough-going crook. Perhaps that’s the real reason
Frankie picked you as a colleague. You must have some useful contacts both in
high places and in the underworld.”
    Max plucked a cigarette from a gold case,
deftly performing the operation with one hand. Simon pulled out the car
lighter and lit it for him. Annellatt’s face appeared weary and almost sad in the
brightening glow.
    “You are right, of course. I have the
entr é e into many circles. But the story
of my life is long and rather unhappy. I do not like to think
about it myself, although admittedly it always lies in the
back of my mind.”
    “All right,” said the Saint
indifferently. “Keep it to yourself then.”
    But Max ignored him. He kept his eyes fixed
on the road ahead and had the aspect of someone utterly alone, lost
in his own bitter memories.
    “I was born in Tyrol, the son of a poor
farmer. Tourists find that Alpine region very picturesque and beautiful, and they
think its inhabitants always look happy and contented. So they do. But that
is only to please the tourists!”
    He changed gear to negotiate a hill.
    “What visitors don’t know is that many
of the Tyrolese have an entirely subnormal level of existence. Indeed,
the kindly tourist would be horrified if he knew the extent of poverty
there. That is why it is kept from him, because the Tyrolese need his
money, even though, to speak frankly, they don’t much like
tourists.”
    The car surged forward as he changed back
into high.
    “I’m not too keen on most tourists
myself,” Simon admit ted. “Somehow, every country always seems to export its