“Wunderschön!” he breathed. “It would be worth killing an army to get this.” He turned to the Saint. “And thanks to you, mein Herr, we have got it without any bloodshed at all.”
Simon’s face was inscrutable.
“It strikes me,” he remarked, “that you know a surprising amount for someone who just dropped in to pass the time of day, or night rather.”
The Rat ignored his comment.
“Search the other,” he commanded his mate as he stepped up to the Saint and frisked him swiftly, removing Simon’s gun in the process.
The Gorilla did the same with Leopold. The Rat stepped to one side of the open door.
“We are leaving you now, but first we must tie you up.” Turning to his companion, “Go fetch the rope,” he said in German.
Suddenly the kitchen door opened and Anton entered.
The Gorilla’s reaction was automatic. He did not even wait to think or see who it was. His gun spat once. The old manservant slumped to the floor, an astonished expression on his face.
Then Leopold made his heroic move, which is something only heroes should attempt. He rushed blindly towards the Gorilla whose gun spoke again. Leopold stopped in his tracks, clutching his shoulder from which blood was beginning to seep.
Frankie gasped, and ran to him.
“Leopold, my darling!” she sobbed. She turned to the Gorilla. “You scum! You do not deserve to live!”
The Rat answered her. His smile was evil as he swung the Necklace tauntingly in front of her.
“And you, Gnädiges Fräulein, are lucky to be left alive.” He spoke to the Gorilla out of the corner of his mouth: “Get the rope, I said.”
“Why not just kill them?” grumbled the Gorilla. “They know too much anyway. And I know how I would like to do it to that other one.”
“You are a fool,” said the Rat contemptuously. “What he did to you was a proper punishment for your own stupidity. I order you to stop thinking about revenge and try to learn a lesson from it. The Boss said no killing, and now you have killed a man. Because of you we are already in deep trouble. Go get the rope, I am telling you.”
Simon saw that the time had come for someone to take action. There was, of course, only one person capable of taking it: himself. Yet for reasons of his own that was the one thing he did not wish to do at that particular moment, and these reasons were totally unconnected with the fact that the odds were stacked so steeply against him. Nevertheless, it was a situation where discretion was the better part of valour, since the Rat had him well covered with his gun.
He therefore relaxed and lounged against the table while the Gorilla went out and quickly returned with a coil of cord, with which he set about tying up the Saint and his party.
Simon submitted co-operatively to having his wrists bound, but was ready for the blow that the Gorilla launched at his face directly that was done, and ducked it easily, but could not keep his balance in evading the crotch kick that followed, and fell sideways.
“Halt!” commanded the Rat sharply, as the Gorilla’s foot drew back for another kick. “You tie them up, nothing more. And you” — the muzzle of his gun fanned over his captives — “will not resist, unless you want to be painfully wounded.”
The Gorilla muttered sulkily but got on with his job, and it was not long before the Saint, Leopold and Frankie were tightly trussed. Leopold’s face turned dark red when the Gorilla leeringly gave Frankie some special pawing in the process, but his anger had to remain pent up. The Rat’s gun saw to that. Frankie remained icily unmoved, and her eyes and expression showed scorn for his crudeness.
“There we are,” said the Rat finally. “It would have been easier to kill you but we have our orders.” He smiled cruelly at Simon. “And in your case, Mr. Templar, you are fortunate that I have had to restrain my associate in order to complete his punishment, not out of pity for you. But perhaps another time it will be different.”
“Bless your tender heart, old fruit,” drawled the Saint. “Any time you like. But I should warn you that I very seldom get killed — it’s usually the other chap. I’d love to play some more games with your little friend. I think he needs to brush up on his knots, and we could do some practising on his neck.”
The Rat’s only response was to coldly motion with his gun for the Gorilla to precede him through the door into the darkness. The Gorilla swung a final kick at the Saint as he went, but Simon twisted away from it and sustained nothing worse than a brutal pain in his thigh. Then the Rat’s gun itself peremptorily drove the Gorilla on his way, and the Rat followed. A few moments later the car starter hummed, and the engine burst into life. There was a clash of gears as it tore off down the bumpy lane, its headlights weaving wildly as it went.
“You gave up very easily,” Leopold sneered. “Simon Templar, the Saint, the great champion — where was he?”
The Saint declined to take umbrage.
“He who lets them get away, gets his chance another day, as the Bard says. One can be brave and sensible at the same time. The Rat could have deaded me with one shot if I’d tried anything.”
Leopold snorted. Frankie shot Simon a curious look but remained neutral.
“What do we do now?” she asked. “We could stay here for days, unless Max comes to find out what has happened to us.”
“Cheer up, me hearties, all is not lost!” said the Saint jovially. “You are about to witness a marvel of escapology performed by none other than Simon H. Templar. The H stands for Houdini, of course. He was my aunt on my mother’s side. That was his greatest trick. But he taught me one or two others.”
As he spoke, the Saint was flexing his arms.
“The secret is to keep your wrists edgeways-on while they’re being tied. This gives the rope the greatest possible circumference to go around. Then when you turn them flat-to-flat, you get quite a bit of slack. Work that all to one side, and the loop may be big enough to pull one hand through. Of course it doesn’t work if you’re unconscious while they’re tying you. But once you’ve done that, it’s all downhill.”
And suddenly his left hand came from behind his back, free and unencumbered, to give his audience a triumphantly mocking salute.
“Then,” the Saint went on, as he shook the cords off his other hand and bent over to untie his ankles, “the rest is quite easy.”
A minute or two later he kicked off the bonds and set about releasing Frankie.
The girl sat up and rubbed her wrists and ankles.
“I’ve gone all numb,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” the Saint told her. “It always happens in cases of unrequited love. Feeling will come back soon, but you may get pins and needles for a while, as the seamstress said to the Bishop.”
He stepped over to Leopold, who still lay bound and glaring at him.
“How would it be, old son, if we left you here as a corpus delicti? We ought to have some evidence that a crime has been committed. I mean mayhem as well as murder.”
“You forget he is wounded,” Frankie protested. “Set him free at once without making any more of your silly jokes.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon said numbly. “Being such a silly fellow, I suppose they come naturally.”
He knelt down and began untying Leopold, and then helped the young man to a chair. Frankie came over and cradled Leopold’s head on her shoulder. The young man looked quite pleased with life at the moment. He closed his eyes and a rather smug expression spread over his face.
“If you two were in a Victorian painting,” Simon observed, “it would be entitled The Prodigal’s Return, or True Love Discovered.”