Free The Saint Returns by Leslie Charteris Page A

reason why
I should offer a queen’s ransom to anybody just for tracing her.
I offered more than I might have because when Brine and Mullins came to me and
said they had a clue as to her whereabouts …”
    “The detectives came to you?” Simon
interrupted.
    “Yes. When Mildred disappeared I began
putting out quiet feelers immediately. Brine and Mullins got wind of what was
happening and came and told me that they believed they could
return my daughter within forty- eight hours—and without publicity. They asked
a stiff price, but it seemed worth it.”
    “Well,” said the Saint, “if
they were honest in the first place, it would seem they got carried away by
the heat of the hunt and decided to go crooked. I’ll have to ad mit we
were leading them a merry chase there for a while.”
    “And that’s something else, Mr.
Templar,” Drew said, glaring at him. “Your summary of events
on the tele phone failed to explain just what you were doing with my
daughter in the first place.”
    “If you had been listening closely, you’d
recall I said she insinuated herself into my good graces by telling lies. To
be specific—that she was Hitler’s daughter and that your detectives
were SS men.”
    Drew all but spat on the floor.
    “That’s preposterous!”
    “Don’t blame me for weak points in
Mildred’s upbringing. And just keep in mind that even though I was clever enough to
surmise that she wasn’t really Hitler’s daugh ter, I had no way of
knowing whose daughter she really was. By the time she confessed, we were a long way from Dublin.”
    “Why didn’t you call me immediately, as
soon as you knew who she was?”
    Drew’s imperious tone irritated Simon, who
sat quietly for a moment, the sapphire points of his eyes fixed pene tratingly
and coldly on the other man’s face.
    “Remember, Mr. Drew, I’m not one of your
hired lackeys, Your daughter—probably accurately—made you sound
like a selfish ogre. I saw no reason to stop her doing anything she
pleased.”
    Drew glowered for a moment longer, then turned
angrily away. The Saint got to his feet.
    “Now,” he said, “are you going
to pay up, or lose one of your tax deductions the hard way?”
    Drew’s face was now more apprehensive than
angry.
    “You don’t think they’d … actually kill
her?”
    “I’m afraid unsuccessful kidnappers are
more danger ous
than successful ones.”
    “What guarantee do I have they’ll return
her even if I do pay the money?”
    Simon shrugged.
    “None. That’s one reason why I consider
kidnapping one of the more nauseating crimes in the human reper toire. But
if you don’t pay, the odds are something like fifty to one in favor of their
killing Mildred. If you do, then naturally Brine and Mullins would rather
look for ward to enjoying their fifty thousand pounds apiece without a
murder rap hanging over their heads. I’d ad vise you to pay.”
    “Naturally,” Drew said, hardening
his tone again. “Naturally you would. The note conveniently specifies that you
and only you may bring the money. Let’s assume that you are
not a part of this plot. That assump tion may be erroneous, but for the sake
of argument…”
    Simon held up his hand and gave Drew a look of cold contempt.
    “I was afraid you might make such nasty insinuations,” he said levelly. “So, to demonstrate my
sincerity, I’ll sim ply remove myself
from the whole situation and let you worry
about it.”
    He stepped toward the door. Drew moved after
him quickly, his face showing sudden panic.
    “No … Wait. I … I
apologise.”
    The Saint turned back, his expression only
slightly softer, making it plain that he was not quite sure that the apology
was adequate.
    “What were you saying then?”
    Drew opened his mouth, paused, and closed it
again.
    “Ah … I’m not sure,” he said.
    “I think I can read your mind,”
said the Saint. “You were going to ask what would prevent me from setting off for the crossroads with
your money and going