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Graner inspected the end of his cigar-it was burn-ing a trifle unevenly, and
he moistened the tip of one finger to damp the part that was burning too fast.
"I'm on the level with you," said the Saint, "and I'm ready to stay that way,
because I know you've got more to offer than a share in a lottery ticket.
But after the way you've started, I want to be sure that you're on the level
with me before I take any more chances. If this turns out all right, we'll
call it quits and keep going. All of which is aside from the fact that I can
get a hell of a lot more out of this girl by making love to her and kidding
her that I'm on her side than you ever will with your ideas of per-suading....
Anyway, that's the deal I'm offering; and if you don't like it you can have
the key and walk out just as soon as it suits you."
Outside the window, the locomotive announced its return journey with a fresh
outburst of hideous brain-searing shrieks. An unsilenced motorcycle crackled
and spluttered like an inexhaustible machine gun while its rider howled his
greetings to some friends two blocks away, who howled back with no less
enthusiasm at him. A couple of ancient buses groaned through the square with a
noise like a thousand tin cans being rattled together in a riveting yard.
About forty taxis sustained an intermittent blasting on their peculiarly
obnoxious horns. A tram ground and thundered up the slope, ringing a bell
continuously. A knife grinder blew his mournful whistle. A donkey threw up its
head and let out its sobbing asthmatic song. Apart from those echoes of the
Elysian tranquillity of Santa Cruz, there was absolute silence in the room for
some time.
Simon didn't try to hurry the decision. Actually, there was only one way it
could possibly be made. But what really mattered was the atmosphere.
Graner looked at him again.
"If you still want to be satisfied about me, I take it that you would have no
objection to satisfying me about yourself."
"How?"
"By letting me look after your passport."
Without a second's hesitation, the Saint took it out of his pocket. It was a
perfectly good passport, and it was made out in the name of Sebastian Tombs.
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Graner glanced at it and placed it carefuly in his wallet. The possession of
it made a subtle difference to his manner; and the Saint knew that for that
mo-ment at any rate Graner was convinced. The immortal gorgeousness of the
reversal made his ribs ache. It must have been years since anyone had stood up
to Graner like that, since anyone had taken him apart and flattened him out
with such sublime completeness; and when Simon thought about how he had done
it he wanted to roll on the bed in a rapture of cosmic mirth that was too deep
and soul-shaking for ordinary laughter. But he didn't. Instead, he crowned the
peak of his inspiration with the last and most superb auda-city of all.
He produced Graner's automatic and held it care-lessly out to him, butt
foremost.
"You'd better have this too," he said gravely.
It was the climax. The man who could have re-mained unimpressed by a gesture
like that would have been superhuman. It left Graner stripped of every other
argument.
Graner put the gun away and picked up his cane. He looked down at Christine
again for another moment.
"How long will that keep her quiet?"
"I gave her enough for about half an hour." Simon took the key and unlocked
the door. "You'd better be on your way."
He accompanied Graner down the stairs. There was still the hall to be passed,
and the wavy-haired boy who might smash everything again with two or three
words; and the Saint sent up a silent prayer as they descended the last
flight.
As his foot came off the last step he said: "Directly anything breaks, I'll
call you. Is your phone number in the directory?"
"Yes."
"And if you or any of the boys think of anything brilliant, you'll find me
here." The Saint's lazy stride was deceptive: it covered the distance between
the stairway and the door without the waste of a second, although to him it
seemed much too slow. "In any case, we'll keep in touch."
"Yes." Graner checked at the door. "By the way, what about your room?"
"I'll tell them I'm staying-there is somebody here who speaks English." Simon
took his arm and pressed him on. "The point is that you've got to get your car [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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