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was a superb 200-ton Diesel yacht with a sweet line of clipper bow: Simon
could read the name painted there Luxor. Beside the wheel-house Simon could
see a man focussing a pair of binocu-lars, and he knew that it was the
Claudette that was the object of his attention.
"A lovely boat," said Stride purringly.
"Lovely," agreed the Saint. "You have to be a very successful man to own a
ship like that or even a ship like yours, Mr. Stride."
The other shot one of his surprisingly sharp glances at the unruffled young
man beside him.
"Hum," he assented mechanically; but he was spared the necessity of finding
some suitable amplification of his answer by the arrival of a white-coated
steward with a tray of glasses, followed by what appeared to be the remainder
of his guests.
These consisted of a pleasant-faced youngster of about twenty-five, with a
diligently suppressed crinkle in his fair hair, and a sleek and saturnine man
of inde-terminate age whose coat fitted very tightly to his waist and whose
hair waved unashamed in faultless undulations that nature unaided could
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scarcely have made so symmetrical. The fair-haired youngster's name was Toby
Halidom, and his solicitude for Laura Berwick's complete recovery from the
effects of her adventure seemed to account satisfactorily for the engagement
ring which appeared on her finger when she had powdered her nose and changed
for lunch. The sleek and saturnine one was introduced as Mr. Almido, private
secretary to Mr. Stride; he spoke little, and when he did so it was with a
lisping accent that was certainly no more English than his clothes.
Mr. Stride swallowed his cocktail in silence and led the way below almost
abruptly. His lack of festive geniality, remarkable in a man whose
stepdaughter had so recently been saved from a watery grave, con-tinued for
fully half the meal; but the Saint was un-abashed. And then, just as
surprisingly for anyone who had begun to accept his taciturnity, he began to
thaw. He thawed so much that by the time the dessert was placed on the table
he was inquiring into the Saint's plans with something approaching affability.
"Are you staying long?" he asked.
"Until I'm tired of absorbing Vitamin D, probably," said the Saint. "I have no
plans."
"I always thought the south of France was the favourite resort of sunbathers,"
remarked Mr. Stride, with a show of interest in which only an ear that was
listening for it could have discerned the veiled point. "I think, if that were
my object, I should be inclined to go there rather than risk the uncertainties
of the British climate. I'm sure that would be wiser."
"Ah, but even there they make you wear some clothes," said the Saint
ingenuously. "It always annoys me to see myself in my bath looking as if I
were wearing a ridiculous pair of transparent white pants. Here I can find a
nice piece of coast all to myself and acquire the same beautiful colour all
over."
Mr. Toby Halidom, who was wearing an Old Harrovian tie, looked faintly
shocked; but Mr. Stride was unmoved.
He accompanied Simon onto the deck, with Laura Berwick, when the Saint excused
himself as soon as coffee had been served. One of the men, he said, would take
Mr. Hum Ha back to St. Mary's in the motor dinghy; and while the boat was
being brought round Simon glanced across again to the Luxor. A seaman was
standing on the deck, looking towards them, and as Simon came into view the
man turned and spoke through a hatch to someone below. A moment later the man
who had watched the Saint before came up the companion and adjusted his
binoculars again.
"I hope we shall see some more of you," said Mr. Stride, standing by the
gangway. "Come and pay us a call whenever you like."
"I should love to," murmured the Saint, just as politely; and then, with such
a smooth transition that the effect of it was like a gunshot, he said: "I
didn't know Abdul Osman was short-sighted."
Galbraith Stride went white, as if the blood had been drained from his face by
a vacuum pump.
"Do you know Mr. Osman?" he asked, with an effort.
"Fairly well," said the Saint casually. "I branded him on both cheeks five
years ago, and it must have cost him no end of money in plastic surgeons to
put his face right again. If anyone had done that to me I shouldn't have to
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look at him twice through field glasses to be sure who it was."
"Very interesting," said Galbraith Stride slowly. "Very interesting." He held
out his hand. "Well, good-bye, Mr. er hum."
"Templar," said the Saint. "Simon Templar. And thanks so much for the lunch."
He shook the proffered hand cordially and went down to the boat; and he was so
happy that he wanted to sing to himself all the way back to St. Mary's.
CHAPTER III
"IF," said Patricia Holm, "that was supposed to be another of your famous
Exercises in Tact "
"But what else could it have been?" protested the Saint. "If I hadn't used
extraordinary tact, I shouldn't have been invited to lunch; and that would
have meant I'd have missed a display of caviare, lobster mayonnaise, and dry
champagne that no man with a decent respect for his stomach could resist not
to mention a first-hand knowledge of the geography of Stride's boat "
"And by dinnertime," said Patricia, "she'll be fifty miles away, with the
Luxor racing her."
Simon shook his head.
"Not if I know Abdul Osman. The surgeons may have refashioned his face, but
there are scars inside him that he will never forget.... I should have had to
scrape an acquaintance with Laura some time, and that accident made it so
beautifully easy."
"I thought we were coming here for a holiday," said Patricia; and the Saint
grinned and went in search of Mr. Smithson Smith.
Mr. Smithson Smith was the manager of Tregar-then's, which is one of the three
hotels with which the island of St. Mary's is provided. Simon Templar, whose
taste in hotels could be satisfied by nothing less lavish than palaces like
the Dorchester, failing which he usually plunged to the opposite extreme, had
declined an invitation to stay there, and had billeted himself in a house in
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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