Free Send for the Saint by Leslie Charteris, Peter Bloxsom

eyebrow.
    “And what do you propose to do if by some chance he isn’t there?”
    “We must follow!” Patroclos Two’s tone was vehement. “Wherever he goes, we will follow. Now that we have begun, now that we are on his trail, this man must be finally tracked down and confronted!”
    “And of course,” added the Saint wearily, “you’ll be wanting to get your codebook back before you arrange to have this double of yours chucked into the sea. If he has it, that is.”
    Patroclos Two’s face was expressionless.
    “And you, Templar. If I find that my suspicions are justified — that you have been working for him as well as me… well, I will have to decide what to do when the time comes. But you should know that Diogenes Patroclos is never doublecrossed with impunity!”
    Ariadne Two seemed totally confused by recent events, and had said practically nothing during the flight. The Saint supposed that she was doing some hard thinking of her own. She appeared to have been genuinely surprised when he had told her about the Patroclos double; and he had little doubt that before long she would receive several further jolts to her system.
    When they reached the headquarters office building, Patroclos Two strode straight through the entrance and along the corridor to his own office suite, with the Saint and the girl following close behind.
    As they burst into the outer office, Ariadne One looked up from her desk with a startled expression. Ariadne Two gasped at the sight of the girl who was almost her double — although the resemblance, when Simon saw them together, was not nearly so uncannily identical as that of Patroclos One and Two.
    The Saint nudged her.
    “See what I mean? Two Ariadnes.”
    And Ariadne One looked equally bemused.
    “Mr Patroclos — ” she began.
    “Who the hell are you?” he snapped, and flung open the big double doors to the inner office.
    The room was empty; and Patroclos Two turned in a fury as savage as the one that had gripped him in London.
    “Where is he? This man who looks like me?”
    “Who, Mr Patroclos?” Ariadne One seemed uncomprehending. “Did you… forget something?”
    “Remember me, Ariadne?” said the Saint; and the girl looked relieved and grateful for the intervention.
    “Mr. Templar. Yes, of course.”
    “Well, this is the other Patroclos.”
    “You are supposed to be Ariadne?” queried Patroclos Two.
    “But of course I am Ariadne,” said the girl slowly, looking in amazement first at Patroclos Two and then at her own double.
    “Don’t try to work it out,” advised the Saint. “Just tell us where he is.”
    “But you… I mean he… well, you just left, Mr Patroclos.
    “How long ago?” asked Simon quickly.
    “Just two minutes.”
    “Where’s he going?”
    “He didn’t say. He got a phone call.”
    “Where from?” barked Patroclos Two.
    The girl looked uncomfortable under the double-barrelled cross-examination.
    “From the airport. He collected his briefcase — and rushed out.”
    “How come we didn’t pass him on our way in here?” asked the Saint.
    “He went out the back way to the car.”
    Simon crossed swiftly to one of the windows; and then he uttered sotto voce a fluent string of extremely unsaintly observations as he saw the purple Rolls disappearing from the parking lot behind the building.
    “Come on!” called the Saint, rushing for the door. “Let’s get after him. The airport’s a safe bet. Ariadne One” — and he pointed at the girl to leave her in no doubt as to which of them was meant — ” get us a car at the front — gregoral”
    Patroclos Two told the driver, in Greek, to go like the wind; and the resulting ride lived even in the Saint’s memory for years afterwards. But when they arrived at the airport Patroclos’ plane in which they had recently flown from London was just taking off, and the purple Rolls was being driven back off the runway.
    Patroclos Two shook his fist in impotent rage at the dwindling