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.His mind is too worried.Also you did not translate die Bedeutungfor me, which would have been very clever of you if you were one of thecriminals, because both of them speak German like I do."Simon gazed at him with admiration."That was cunning of you," he said ingenuously."But I suppose that's part ofyour job." He dropped his cigarette into a coffee cup and beckoned a passingwaiter."Have a spot of Schnapps and let's see if there's anything we can doto clear up the difficulty."The detective nodded."You have your passports?"The Saint took a blue booklet from his pocket and dropped it on the table.Thedetective turned courteously to Monty Hayward.Something hard was jabbing intothe side of Monty's thigh: he slipped his hand quite naturally under the tableand grasped it.He was wide awake now; the whole purpose of the Saint'stwo-edged bluff was plain to him, and his brain was humming into perfectadaptation.He slid the passport round behind him and produced it as if from his hippocket.Where it had come from he had no idea, and he had even less idea whatinformation it contained; but he watched it across the table while thedetective turned the pages, and gathered that he was George Shelston Ingram,marine architect, of Lowestoft.The photograph was undoubt-edly his own herecognized it immediately as the one from his own passport, and the evidenceof the Saint's inexhaustible thoroughness amazed him.The Saint must have putin an hour's painstaking work before breakfast on that job alone, faking upthe missing part of the Foreign Office embossments which linked the photographwith the new sheet on which it had been pasted.The examination was concluded in a few minutes, and the detectives returnedthe passports to their respective claimants with a slight bow."I have apologized in advance," he said briefly."Now, Mr.Ingram, will youplease tell me your recent movements? One of our men saw you at the Ostbahnhofthis morning, besides the one who happened to see you arrive at the hotel.They re-membered you when the descriptions were received; and it was near theOstbahnhof that the car in which our criminals escaped was found.""I think I can explain that," Monty answered easily."I've been walking aroundthe country in this neighbourhood, and last night I ended up at Siegertsbrun.After dinner I had a telegram from my brother asking me to meet him in Munichthis morning, and saying it was a matter of life and death.So after thinkingit over I caught a very early train and came straight here.""Your brother?"The detective seemed suddenly to have gone out of control.He sat forward asif he could scarcely contain his excitement.And Monty nodded."Yes.He's my twin.If you didn't grasp the point of my friend's story, I cantell you that he was being extremely rude.""Donnerwetter! And where would he meet you Ihr Heir Bruder?" "He said he'dmeet me here at ten o'clock; but he hasn't turned up yet ""You have this telegram?""No I didn't keep it.But ""From where was it despatched?""From Jenbach." Monty's resentment had plainly been boil-ing up against thehungry rattle of questions, and at that point he exploded."Damn it, are yousuggesting that my brother is a crook?"The detective hunched his shoulders.An inscrutable hard-ness had crept inunder the amiable fleshiness of his face.He retorted with the dehumanizedbluntness of official logic."It is a matter of probability.You are so much alike.Also this telegram wassent from Jenbach, where the criminals have last been seen.For them it iscertainly a matter of life and death."In the silence that followed, the waiter returned and set up the drinks whichhad been ordered.Simon flicked a note onto bis tray and dismissed him withPage 43 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlcurt gesture.He slid the glasses round in front of the detectives and lookedfrom them to Monty and then back again."This is serious," he said."Are you quite sure you haven't made a mistake?""That is to be discovered.But it is strange that Mr.Ingram's brother has notyet arrived."The reply was unexceptionably polite.And just as incontest-ably it declinedto be drawn into abstract argument.It slammed up one stark circumstance, andinvited explanations that would convince a jury nothing less.Simon took a fresh cigarette from the packet on the table and slouched back inhis pew, watching the two detectives like a hawk.There was not an atom oftension in his poise, not one visible quiver of a muscle to flash hints ofdanger to a sus-picious man, and under the smooth, level brows bis eyelidsdrooped no more than thoughtfully against the smoke; but behind that droop theeyes were alive with frozen steel.His right arm was crooked lazily round thechair back, but the hand hung less than an inch from his gun pocket."It does seem odd," he drawled.The keen gaze of the detective who had done all the talk-ing searched hisface."Were you travelling with Mr.Ingram?" he inquired."Yeah."The Saint picked up his glass and turned the stem between his fingers.Thehand that held it was rock-firm, and he re-turned the chief detective's directstare without a tremor; and yet his heart was putting in perhaps two extrabeats per min-ute above its normal rhythm.He knew to the millionth part of aninch how slender was the thread by which their getaway still hung.The crisisof their bluff was pelting into them with less than a handful of split secondsleft to run and he had known all the time that it was coming.It had been onits way from the first word with all the inevitablity of an inrushing tide.Simon had expected nothing else.He had won the only stakes it had been playedfor the fifteen minutes' grace which had been given, the awakening of doubtsin the detectives' minds, the vital cue to Monty and the two police officerssit-ting there quietly at the table."You came here from Siegertsbrun together?"The eyes had never wavered from the scrutiny.Neither had Simon Templar's.The Saint raised his glass."Cheerio," he said.Almost mechanically the other groped around and took up his own drink.Hiscolleague did the same.Both of them were looking at the Saint.He could seethe ideas that were working simultaneously through their minds.They hadrecovered from the first stunning confusion of the bluff, and now in thereac-tion they were thinking on top gear turning the defense over under thesearchlights of habitual incredulity, probing re-morselessly into itsstructure, reading behind it into the bal-ance of probabilities.And yet they drank.They ignored the customary clinking of glasses, and theirperfunctory bows were so slight as to be al-most imperceptible."Ihre Gesundheit!"Simon put down his glass and drew thoughtfully on his ciga-rette.At thatmoment he could have laughed."No, brother," he said gently."We missed Siegertsbrun.But we had a swelltime in Innsbruck." He smiled sweetly at the startled bulging of thedetectives' eyes, and on the tablecloth their empty glasses seemed to rise ontiptoe and cheer for him."It's been lovely meeting you, and I hope this chatwon't get you into trouble at headquarters."The nearest man half rose from his chair, and the Saint stepped swiftly up andcaught him as he went limp.Simon wrung him affectionately by the hand.He slapped him on the back.Hegripped him by the shoulders and bade him an exuberantly cordial farewell [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.His mind is too worried.Also you did not translate die Bedeutungfor me, which would have been very clever of you if you were one of thecriminals, because both of them speak German like I do."Simon gazed at him with admiration."That was cunning of you," he said ingenuously."But I suppose that's part ofyour job." He dropped his cigarette into a coffee cup and beckoned a passingwaiter."Have a spot of Schnapps and let's see if there's anything we can doto clear up the difficulty."The detective nodded."You have your passports?"The Saint took a blue booklet from his pocket and dropped it on the table.Thedetective turned courteously to Monty Hayward.Something hard was jabbing intothe side of Monty's thigh: he slipped his hand quite naturally under the tableand grasped it.He was wide awake now; the whole purpose of the Saint'stwo-edged bluff was plain to him, and his brain was humming into perfectadaptation.He slid the passport round behind him and produced it as if from his hippocket.Where it had come from he had no idea, and he had even less idea whatinformation it contained; but he watched it across the table while thedetective turned the pages, and gathered that he was George Shelston Ingram,marine architect, of Lowestoft.The photograph was undoubt-edly his own herecognized it immediately as the one from his own passport, and the evidenceof the Saint's inexhaustible thoroughness amazed him.The Saint must have putin an hour's painstaking work before breakfast on that job alone, faking upthe missing part of the Foreign Office embossments which linked the photographwith the new sheet on which it had been pasted.The examination was concluded in a few minutes, and the detectives returnedthe passports to their respective claimants with a slight bow."I have apologized in advance," he said briefly."Now, Mr.Ingram, will youplease tell me your recent movements? One of our men saw you at the Ostbahnhofthis morning, besides the one who happened to see you arrive at the hotel.They re-membered you when the descriptions were received; and it was near theOstbahnhof that the car in which our criminals escaped was found.""I think I can explain that," Monty answered easily."I've been walking aroundthe country in this neighbourhood, and last night I ended up at Siegertsbrun.After dinner I had a telegram from my brother asking me to meet him in Munichthis morning, and saying it was a matter of life and death.So after thinkingit over I caught a very early train and came straight here.""Your brother?"The detective seemed suddenly to have gone out of control.He sat forward asif he could scarcely contain his excitement.And Monty nodded."Yes.He's my twin.If you didn't grasp the point of my friend's story, I cantell you that he was being extremely rude.""Donnerwetter! And where would he meet you Ihr Heir Bruder?" "He said he'dmeet me here at ten o'clock; but he hasn't turned up yet ""You have this telegram?""No I didn't keep it.But ""From where was it despatched?""From Jenbach." Monty's resentment had plainly been boil-ing up against thehungry rattle of questions, and at that point he exploded."Damn it, are yousuggesting that my brother is a crook?"The detective hunched his shoulders.An inscrutable hard-ness had crept inunder the amiable fleshiness of his face.He retorted with the dehumanizedbluntness of official logic."It is a matter of probability.You are so much alike.Also this telegram wassent from Jenbach, where the criminals have last been seen.For them it iscertainly a matter of life and death."In the silence that followed, the waiter returned and set up the drinks whichhad been ordered.Simon flicked a note onto bis tray and dismissed him withPage 43 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlcurt gesture.He slid the glasses round in front of the detectives and lookedfrom them to Monty and then back again."This is serious," he said."Are you quite sure you haven't made a mistake?""That is to be discovered.But it is strange that Mr.Ingram's brother has notyet arrived."The reply was unexceptionably polite.And just as incontest-ably it declinedto be drawn into abstract argument.It slammed up one stark circumstance, andinvited explanations that would convince a jury nothing less.Simon took a fresh cigarette from the packet on the table and slouched back inhis pew, watching the two detectives like a hawk.There was not an atom oftension in his poise, not one visible quiver of a muscle to flash hints ofdanger to a sus-picious man, and under the smooth, level brows bis eyelidsdrooped no more than thoughtfully against the smoke; but behind that droop theeyes were alive with frozen steel.His right arm was crooked lazily round thechair back, but the hand hung less than an inch from his gun pocket."It does seem odd," he drawled.The keen gaze of the detective who had done all the talk-ing searched hisface."Were you travelling with Mr.Ingram?" he inquired."Yeah."The Saint picked up his glass and turned the stem between his fingers.Thehand that held it was rock-firm, and he re-turned the chief detective's directstare without a tremor; and yet his heart was putting in perhaps two extrabeats per min-ute above its normal rhythm.He knew to the millionth part of aninch how slender was the thread by which their getaway still hung.The crisisof their bluff was pelting into them with less than a handful of split secondsleft to run and he had known all the time that it was coming.It had been onits way from the first word with all the inevitablity of an inrushing tide.Simon had expected nothing else.He had won the only stakes it had been playedfor the fifteen minutes' grace which had been given, the awakening of doubtsin the detectives' minds, the vital cue to Monty and the two police officerssit-ting there quietly at the table."You came here from Siegertsbrun together?"The eyes had never wavered from the scrutiny.Neither had Simon Templar's.The Saint raised his glass."Cheerio," he said.Almost mechanically the other groped around and took up his own drink.Hiscolleague did the same.Both of them were looking at the Saint.He could seethe ideas that were working simultaneously through their minds.They hadrecovered from the first stunning confusion of the bluff, and now in thereac-tion they were thinking on top gear turning the defense over under thesearchlights of habitual incredulity, probing re-morselessly into itsstructure, reading behind it into the bal-ance of probabilities.And yet they drank.They ignored the customary clinking of glasses, and theirperfunctory bows were so slight as to be al-most imperceptible."Ihre Gesundheit!"Simon put down his glass and drew thoughtfully on his ciga-rette.At thatmoment he could have laughed."No, brother," he said gently."We missed Siegertsbrun.But we had a swelltime in Innsbruck." He smiled sweetly at the startled bulging of thedetectives' eyes, and on the tablecloth their empty glasses seemed to rise ontiptoe and cheer for him."It's been lovely meeting you, and I hope this chatwon't get you into trouble at headquarters."The nearest man half rose from his chair, and the Saint stepped swiftly up andcaught him as he went limp.Simon wrung him affectionately by the hand.He slapped him on the back.Hegripped him by the shoulders and bade him an exuberantly cordial farewell [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]