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.Nor could he ever afterwards have been identified by the sleepy-eyed porterwho answered his ring at a certain bell in Jermyn Street; for, when the doorwas opened, Simon's face was masked from eyes to chin by a handkerchief foldedthree-cornerwise, and his hat brim shaded his eyes.So much the porter sawbefore the Saint struck once, swiftly, mercifully, and regretfully, with asupple rubber truncheon.The Saint closed the door behind him and unbuttoned his double-breasted coat.There were a dozen turns of light rope wound round his waist belt-fashion, andwith these he secured the janitor hand and foot, completing the work with ahumane but efficient gag.Then he lifted the unconscious man and carried himto the little cubicle at the back of the hall, where he left him-after takinghis keys.He raced up the stairs to the door of Lemuel's apartment, which was on thesecond floor.It was the work of a moment only to find the right key.Then, ifthe door were bolted.But apparently Lemuel relied on the security of hisYale lock and the watchfulness of the porter.The Saint passed like a cat down the passage that opened before him, listeningat door after door.Presently he heard the sound of rhythmic breathing, and heentered Lemuel's bedroom without a sound, and stood over the bed like a ghost.Page 29 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe was certain that Lemuel must have spent a restless night until the recenttelephone call came through to calm his fears.There were a bottle, a siphon, a glass, and an ash tray heaped with cigaretteends on a table by the bedside to support this assumption; but now Lemuel mustbe sleeping the sleep of the dead.Gently Simon drew the edge of the sheet over the sleeping man's face; and ontothe sheet he dripped a colourless liquid from a flask which he took from hispocket.The atmosphere thickened with a sickly reek.Five minutes later, in another room, the Saint was opening a burglar-proofsafe with Lemuel's own key.He found what he was expecting to find-what, in fact, he had arranged to find.It had required no great genius to deduce that Lemuel would have withdrawn allhis mobile fortune from his bank the day before; if there had been nosatisfactory report from Einsmann before morning, Lemuel would have been onhis way out of England long before the expiration of the time limit which theSaint had given him.Simon burned twenty-five thousand pounds' worth of negotiable securities inthe open grate.There was already a heap of ashes in the fireplace when hebegan his own bonfire, and he guessed that Lemuel had spent part of theprevious evening disinfecting his private papers; it would be a waste of timeto search the desk.With about forty thousand pounds in Bank of England notescunningly distributed about his person, the Saint closed the safe, after someartistic work on the interior, and returned to Lemuel's bedroom, where hereplaced the key as he had found it.Before he left, he turned the sheet backfrom Lemuel's face; the bedroom windows were already open, and in a couple ofhours the smell of ether should have dispersed."A couple of hours." The Saint glanced at his watch as he went down thestairs, and realized that he had only just given himself enough time.But hestopped at the janitor's cubicle on his way out, and the helpless man glaredat him defiantly."I'm sorry I had to hit you," said the Saint."But perhaps this will help toconsole you for your troubles."He took ten one-pound notes from his wallet and laid them on the porter'sdesk; then he hurried down the hall, and slipped off his masking handkerchiefas he opened the door.Half an hour later he was in bed.Francis Lemuel had arranged to be called early, in case of accidents, and thereassuring telephone message had come too late for him to countermand theorder.He roused at half-past eight, to find his valet shaking him by theshoulder, and sat up muzzily.His head was splitting.He took a gulp at thehot tea which his man had brought, and felt sick."Must have drunk more whisky than I thought," he reflected hazily; and then hebecame aware that his valet was speaking."There's been a burglary here, sir.About six o'clock this morning the porterwas knocked out--""Here-in this apartment?" Lemuel's voice was harsh and strained.Page 30 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"No, sir.At least, I've looked round, sir, and nothing seems to have beentouched."Lemuel drew a long breath.For an instant an icy dread had clutched at hisheart.Then he remembered-the Saint was dead, there was nothing more tofear.He sipped his tea again and chuckled throatily."Then someone's been unlucky," he remarked callously, and was surprised whenthe valet shook his head."That's the extraordinary thing, sir.They've been making inquiries all round,and none of the other apartments seem to have been entered either."Lemuel recalled this conversation later in the morning.He had declinedbreakfast blasphemously, and had only just man aged to get up and dress intime to restore his treasures to the keeping of his bank.He saw the emptiness of his safe, and the little drawing which the Saint hadchalked inside it by way of receipt, and went a dirty gray-white.The strength seemed to go from his knees; and he groped his way blindly to achair, shaking with a superstitious terror.It was some time before he broughthimself to realize that ghosts do not stun porters and clean out burglar-proofsafes.The valet, coming at a run to answer the frantic pealing of the bell, washorrified at the haggard limpness of his master."Fetch the police," croaked Lemuel and the man went quickly.Chief Inspector Teal himself had just arrived to give some instructions to thedetective-sergeant who had taken over the investigations, and he it was whoanswered the summons [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Nor could he ever afterwards have been identified by the sleepy-eyed porterwho answered his ring at a certain bell in Jermyn Street; for, when the doorwas opened, Simon's face was masked from eyes to chin by a handkerchief foldedthree-cornerwise, and his hat brim shaded his eyes.So much the porter sawbefore the Saint struck once, swiftly, mercifully, and regretfully, with asupple rubber truncheon.The Saint closed the door behind him and unbuttoned his double-breasted coat.There were a dozen turns of light rope wound round his waist belt-fashion, andwith these he secured the janitor hand and foot, completing the work with ahumane but efficient gag.Then he lifted the unconscious man and carried himto the little cubicle at the back of the hall, where he left him-after takinghis keys.He raced up the stairs to the door of Lemuel's apartment, which was on thesecond floor.It was the work of a moment only to find the right key.Then, ifthe door were bolted.But apparently Lemuel relied on the security of hisYale lock and the watchfulness of the porter.The Saint passed like a cat down the passage that opened before him, listeningat door after door.Presently he heard the sound of rhythmic breathing, and heentered Lemuel's bedroom without a sound, and stood over the bed like a ghost.Page 29 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe was certain that Lemuel must have spent a restless night until the recenttelephone call came through to calm his fears.There were a bottle, a siphon, a glass, and an ash tray heaped with cigaretteends on a table by the bedside to support this assumption; but now Lemuel mustbe sleeping the sleep of the dead.Gently Simon drew the edge of the sheet over the sleeping man's face; and ontothe sheet he dripped a colourless liquid from a flask which he took from hispocket.The atmosphere thickened with a sickly reek.Five minutes later, in another room, the Saint was opening a burglar-proofsafe with Lemuel's own key.He found what he was expecting to find-what, in fact, he had arranged to find.It had required no great genius to deduce that Lemuel would have withdrawn allhis mobile fortune from his bank the day before; if there had been nosatisfactory report from Einsmann before morning, Lemuel would have been onhis way out of England long before the expiration of the time limit which theSaint had given him.Simon burned twenty-five thousand pounds' worth of negotiable securities inthe open grate.There was already a heap of ashes in the fireplace when hebegan his own bonfire, and he guessed that Lemuel had spent part of theprevious evening disinfecting his private papers; it would be a waste of timeto search the desk.With about forty thousand pounds in Bank of England notescunningly distributed about his person, the Saint closed the safe, after someartistic work on the interior, and returned to Lemuel's bedroom, where hereplaced the key as he had found it.Before he left, he turned the sheet backfrom Lemuel's face; the bedroom windows were already open, and in a couple ofhours the smell of ether should have dispersed."A couple of hours." The Saint glanced at his watch as he went down thestairs, and realized that he had only just given himself enough time.But hestopped at the janitor's cubicle on his way out, and the helpless man glaredat him defiantly."I'm sorry I had to hit you," said the Saint."But perhaps this will help toconsole you for your troubles."He took ten one-pound notes from his wallet and laid them on the porter'sdesk; then he hurried down the hall, and slipped off his masking handkerchiefas he opened the door.Half an hour later he was in bed.Francis Lemuel had arranged to be called early, in case of accidents, and thereassuring telephone message had come too late for him to countermand theorder.He roused at half-past eight, to find his valet shaking him by theshoulder, and sat up muzzily.His head was splitting.He took a gulp at thehot tea which his man had brought, and felt sick."Must have drunk more whisky than I thought," he reflected hazily; and then hebecame aware that his valet was speaking."There's been a burglary here, sir.About six o'clock this morning the porterwas knocked out--""Here-in this apartment?" Lemuel's voice was harsh and strained.Page 30 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"No, sir.At least, I've looked round, sir, and nothing seems to have beentouched."Lemuel drew a long breath.For an instant an icy dread had clutched at hisheart.Then he remembered-the Saint was dead, there was nothing more tofear.He sipped his tea again and chuckled throatily."Then someone's been unlucky," he remarked callously, and was surprised whenthe valet shook his head."That's the extraordinary thing, sir.They've been making inquiries all round,and none of the other apartments seem to have been entered either."Lemuel recalled this conversation later in the morning.He had declinedbreakfast blasphemously, and had only just man aged to get up and dress intime to restore his treasures to the keeping of his bank.He saw the emptiness of his safe, and the little drawing which the Saint hadchalked inside it by way of receipt, and went a dirty gray-white.The strength seemed to go from his knees; and he groped his way blindly to achair, shaking with a superstitious terror.It was some time before he broughthimself to realize that ghosts do not stun porters and clean out burglar-proofsafes.The valet, coming at a run to answer the frantic pealing of the bell, washorrified at the haggard limpness of his master."Fetch the police," croaked Lemuel and the man went quickly.Chief Inspector Teal himself had just arrived to give some instructions to thedetective-sergeant who had taken over the investigations, and he it was whoanswered the summons [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]