Free Saint and the Templar Treasure by Leslie Charteris, Charles King, Graham Weaver Page A

guest, it was up to him to enjoy the fare, and the spirit in which it had been offered.
    Mimette and Philippe appeared to have called a truce for the duration of the dinner. She talked with her father about the prospects for the harvest while her uncle became engrossed in a conversation with Henri about some new laws about labelling that were apparently about to come into force. Norbert spoke only when spoken to, which was not often.
    Simon complimented Gaston on the red wine which Charles poured to accompany the beef, the same wine that had been recommended to him at lunch. From that it was an easy transition to the problems of a winery in wartime, and he found that once the old man’s natural reserve was breached he made a fascinating companion. The Saint heard about his soldiering in the first war and his activities with the Resistance in the second. They were not the boasts of the dinner-table general but the mostly amusing, sometimes poignant, anecdotes of a private soldier. The more they talked the more the Saint warmed to him. But despite the soothing effects of the food and wine and his genuine interest in the stories, he also heard the conversations of the others around the table and was constantly alert for any additional background knowledge that he could pick up directly or indirectly.
    Henri Pichot was apparently the local boy made good. His uncle Gaston had brought him up at Ingare; Philippe had spotted his potential and paid for him to study law in Paris. Having recently qualified, he was now waiting to join a practice and in the meantime was working for one of Philippe’s companies.
    Philippe ran a number of companies and they made him a lot of money. He enjoyed talking about both, to the barely concealed boredom of Mimette.
    After the meal came the formal adjournment to the salon, where Mrs. Charles brought coffee and her husband served balloon glasses of brandy. Yves Florian took Simon by the arm and offered a cigar.
    “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to give up at least one vice every twenty years,” Simon declined. “In that way I should achieve perfect purity by the time I’m a hundred.”
    “I’m afraid I have been neglecting you. Mimette is always badgering me about the business. Even at meal times I get no peace.”
    Yves looked across at his daughter and smiled fondly. There was clearly a very strong bond between them.
    “Please don’t feel guilty,” said the Saint. “If I’m to stay for another day or two, there will be plenty of time for us to talk.”
    “I hope so. Because of the association with Ingare, your name has always caught my attention. I have followed your career, and I shall insist on boring you by asking you for the details that were not reported.”
    “I should be delighted to tell you all, but if I do it may be I who turns out to be the bore.”
    “I doubt it. I want particularly to hear about that affair of the Sons of France, ten years ago. You should have been given the Legion d’Honneur for that.”
    The Saint laughed.
    “I don’t think it would have been politic at the time.”
    “I suppose you are right,” Yves said sadly. “There were too many powerful people involved. Fortunately most, if not all, came into the open during the occupation and have since been dealt with.”
    As he spoke he seemed to glance towards Philippe. His words came through an unfortunate break in other conversations, and an uncomfortable stillness descended on the room.
    It was Mimette who broke the silence. She made a play of looking at her watch and then stood up.
    “Now, Papa, this is no time to start reminiscing about the war,” she said firmly. “It’s getting late, and as some of us have to make an early start in the morning I think we should make it an early night.”
    Her father nodded, and the others who had been seated also rose.
    “If you will excuse us,” he said, “we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
    They walked out of the salon together.
    “I could do