Free The Saint and the Hapsburg Necklace by Leslie Charteris, Christopher Short Page B

him.”
    Simon shook his head.
    “She has told me nothing except that
it’s in the Castle.”
    For a moment Max looked disconcerted.
    “Oh. I thought you said … ?”
He looked at Frankie., enquiringly.
    “I only said I had told him where it
was. By that I meant that it was in the Castle. I did not say where it was hidden.”
    “I see, said Max thoughtfully. “But
is that wise? Let us pray that nothing ever happens to you. But
if it did, someone else should know where to look for it.”
    Frankie’s expression was enigmatic.
    “I will do what I think best.”
    “If you tell anyone, you will tell
me!” exploded Leopold. “I am one of the family. Mr Templar is a
stranger and a noted … er …”
    “Scoundrel?” supplied the Saint
affably. “But that’s what makes me the man for the job. Now, as a
professional scoun drel, I’m thinking of something a bit more difficult for
Max’s list. To go with the clothes, we should have suitable identity papers. I
know that they’re always possible to get, if you know where to get them.
Do Max’s connections extend to that?”
    Annellatt pursed his lips.
    “It could be arranged.”
    “Then while you’re at it, it would be
better still to have a second set, in totally different names, to fall back on if the first lot get blown and we find ourselves on the
lam—should I translate that?”
    Annellatt’s brown eyes bubbled momentarily
with the imp ish merriment to which they were disarmingly
susceptible.
    “For my sins, I have learned some of
those expressions,” he said, but made a colloquial German
translation.
    He turned back to Simon.
    If one can be done, both can be done,” he
said. “Anton will take and develop the necessary pictures, at once.
They could be ready tonight. But the papers will take a little longer. It
may take two days.”
    “The Hapsburg Necklace has been around
for quite a few years,” said the Saint. “I expect it can hold out for
a couple more days, if the moths don’t get to it.”
    Max stood up.
    “Then make your list, Simon, and you
can rely on me to do my part. While I am busy, will you all please regard
Schloss Duppelstein as your own home.”
     
    2
     
    Simon Templar, as a natural sybarite,
greatly enjoyed the next forty-eight hours. Schloss Duppelstein was
run luxuriously. He had a sumptuously furnished bedroom, with a bathroom attached,
in the east wing of the Castle overlooking the court yard. Frankie and Leopold were housed in
the west wing. Max’s quarters were in the
central section. What delighted the
Saint most about his accommodation, however, was the beautiful porcelain stove
which stood in the corner of his bed room
and filled it with heat. He considered such stoves to be works of art and regretted that in Austria they
were getting rarer as more modern
forms of heating took over.
    There was only one small cloud on his horizon. Erich was seconded to be Simon’s valet, and the Saint got the
impres sion that his work entailed a
bit more snooping and curiosity about
the Saint’s affairs and effects than was normally permis sible. Still, he reckoned he could deal with Erich
firmly enough should the need arise,
and he was never one to let such small matters, or the opinions of servants (or
anyone else, for that matter) bother
him.
    Cars and tennis courts were at the disposal
of the guests, and
the weather was still warm enough to allow hardy individuals a quick dip in
the icy, highly ornamented outdoor swimming
pool. There were many lovely walks and rides in the hills around the Castle, and Max Annellatt had his own stables,
filled with thoroughbreds, which he frankly admitted he could not ride.
    Max was kindness itself, and he personally
drove Simon, together with Frankie and Leopold, to see some of the
sights of the surrounding countryside. His cat came along on the ex pedition, and even when his
master drove, Thai lay on his shoulders like a fur collar. Simon came to the
conclusion that the Siamese was the only
creature