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to supply some details.
    “He had an engagement for lunch with the manager of one of his Italian subsidiaries who was coming specially from Rome, but he never got back for it. I know it was an important meeting and nothing but an accident would have kept him away. Of course, I was a bit surprised that he’d already taken the boat out alone when I arrived at ten-thirty, he’s never done that before-“
    “You don’t sleep at the villa?”
    “No, I’m staying at a hotel in town.”
    “Did he say anything to the servants?”
    “They don’t sleep in, either. They come in at two o’clock. Sir Jasper doesn’t like anyone in the house at night, except people he might invite. You know …”
    The Saint thought he knew, but he avoided catching Maureen’s eye.
    A Naval rating and a police sergeant were jointly standing guard over Sir Jasper’s effulgent sampan when they arrived and Wilbert identified himself. Both representatives of the State promptly produced notebooks and began jabbering at him at once, and Simon had to step in as interpreter. It appeared that the Navy was putting a lien on the boat for the cost of bringing it in, and at the same time considering the possibility of prosecuting the owner for endangering navigation by abandoning it on the high seas, while the Police were convinced that someone should be arrested but were trying to decide who and for what. Simon cheerfully assured them that Wilbert would take full responsibility for everything, and they were finally allowed on board.
    In an open runabout of that kind there was not much to examine that could not have been seen from the wharf, but Simon switched on the ignition and pressed the starter buttons one after the other. Each engine turned over vigorously but did not fire, and he saw that the needle of the fuel gauge remained at zero.
    “Ran out of gas,” he remarked. “Do you suppose he tried to swim back for some?”
    “He could only swim a few strokes,” Wilbert said, “and the boat was forty miles out!”
    “He could have been picked up by another boat,” Maureen said.
    “Then they’d have brought him home before this,” said the Saint. “Or if it was a liner that couldn’t just turn around, they’d have a radio, and he’d ‘ve got through to Wilbert right away.”
    “Suppose he was kidnapped?” Wilbert suggested.
    Simon rubbed his chin.
    “I guess you can suppose it. But who on earth would pay anything to get him back?”
    Any fingerprints that might be found on the boat would be hopelessly confused by all the sailors who must have handled it, but there were no immediately visible traces of the salvage operation, or of any unusual behavior on board. In fact, everything was commendably neat and clean, as Simon pointed out.
    “I hosed her down and tidied up myself when we came in yesterday,” Wilbert said. “It’s one of my jobs.”
    The Saint frowned thoughtfully.
    “I suppose he made a lot of mess with those cigars?”
    “Yes-ashes everywhere-” The carroty young man caught his breath, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked around the boat in a startled way. “Good heavens! You mean-“
    “I don’t see any ashes,” said the Saint.
    Maureen bit her lip.
    “This is fascinating,” she said. “Just like playing detectives … Listen. Sir Jasper was really quite plastered last night. He must have had an awful hangover this morning. That would account for him not being in the mood to pick any girls up. And if his tummy was upset he probably couldn’t stand to light a cigar. Was his cigar alight, Simon?”
    “I’m damned if I know,” said the Saint. “He didn’t come in close enough. And who would ‘ve noticed, anyhow?”
    Then there was a new commotion on the dock, and they looked up and saw Lee Carozza and Dominique chattering with the guard detail. There was nothing more worth staying on the Chris-Craft for, and Simon and Maureen climbed back up and joined them, with Wilbert following.
    “They told us at