Read Online The Saint Returns by Leslie Charteris - Free Book Online Page A

you, is there a bed for
her?”
    “Shure. Me daughter’s room. Let’s put
her there. And you can have what me wife is fond of callin’ the guest
room, only till now there’s never been a guest near it. There’s a
lot of spare gear, but I think we can clear a path to the bed.”
    Simon stood up and went to touch Mildred’s
shoulder. She did not stir even when he spoke her name, so he scooped her
into his arms and carried her as Kelly led the way to a little
bedroom.
    “Do ye think she might be a lot more comfortable without all them clothes on?” Kelly asked wistfully, when Simon had
put her on the bed.
    Simon steered his friend out of the door and
into the hall.
    “She might be,” he said, “but
it might have the oppo site effect on you.”
    “I don’t suppose you’d care,”
Kelly sulked, “havin’ been with her the better part of the night
already.”
    They were back in the living room, and Simon
smiled as they sat down and picked up their glasses.
    “If that was the better part of the
night,” he said, “I hate to think what the worst part has in
store.”
    “Well, have mercy and tell me what
happened, would ye, before I split a blood vessel.”
    Simon leaned forward and lowered his voice,
jerking his head in the direction of Mildred’s sleeping-room.
    “There’s just one thing,” he said.
“Do you have a telephone?”
    Kelly nodded.
    “Amazing as it may seem, we do. And
light, as ye can see. But no runnin’ water unless ye make it run by the
strength of yer arm. Who’d ye want to call at this hour?”
    “Nobody. But whatever you do, keep
Mildred away from it.”
    Kelly sat back impatiently and gulped at his
drink.
    “Now for heaven’s sake why is that?”
    “Because every time I shake those two
men who’re following her, they show up again faster than …”
    “The SS, you mean?” Kelly
interrupted.
    “Except they’re not SS. According to her
latest bul letin they’re private detectives hired by her father to catch her
and bring her home before she can get married to some American actor.”
    “And who might her father be this
time?”
    “For the moment, Eugene Drew.”
    Kelly looked enlightened, and amazed.
    “The rich fella,” he said.
“It’s like a holy miracle, but I just looked at tomorrow’s paper I
bought in the vil lage and me eye fell on that story. A little squib in the back:
rumored that Eugene Drew’s daughter has run away again—or somethin’ to that
effect.”
    “Was that all it said?” the Saint
asked.
    “It was only a couple of lines.”
Kelly’s voice became alarmed. “But Simon, you helpin’ a
runaway—and she here in me own house! It’s a dangerous game to be playin’
and for no good reason. And what’s this about detectives findin’
her, and her and the telephone and all? Shure and she’s not callin”
the very people she wants to get away from and tellin’ them where she
is! She may be crazy, but that’s carryin’ insanity to obnoxious ex tremes.”
    The Saint’s calmness was a marked contrast to Kelly’s excitement.
    “I wouldn’t discount any possibility
right now,” he said. “They knew I had a room at the hotel when they shouldn’t even have known my name. They caught up with us outside Dublin
when they shouldn’t have had the faintest idea which way we were
going.”
    “Maybe she’s got one o’ them homin’
devices planted on her,” Kelly suggested. “I saw a film last week
where they put some pin in this man’s lapel, and then they could know where he was no matter…”
    Simon grinned and shook his head.
    “There’s no need to make it so
complicated,” he said. “Nothing has happened that can’t be
explained by a little behind-the-scenes use of the common
telephone.”
    Kelly jumped to his feet impatiently and
poured him self a fresh shot of whiskey.
    “There ye are again—back to her and the
telephone. If I’ve got a lunatic—or maybe two—under me roof, I’d at least
like to know how she—or they—came