She blew him a kiss and took a key out of her bag. With it she opened a small door which, in the fashion of large Viennese houses, was set in the frame of a much more imposing portal. She turned to say farewell, and suddenly her eyes widened as she looked over the Saint’s shoulder.
Spinning around, he saw at once the cause of her alarm. Two men in raincoats had come out of the night and were standing just behind him.
One was small and rat-like, and the other looked like a gorilla.
The smaller man held a revolver.
II
How Frankie laid down the law, and the Saint was driven into the country
1
The Saint’s mind moved with lightning speed and the Saint’s response was almost simultaneous. In another virtually continuous about-turn he flung himself at the girl, sending her flying through the door.
The impetus of his charge carried him through with her, and he slammed the door after him. The two men had been so surprised by his instantaneous reaction that they had not even moved.
The Saint helped Frankie to her feet. She smoothed her skirt and batted her eyelids up at him.
“You certainly do have the caveman approach.”
“And you’re like all women who want to make quite sure that they’re looking nice even if they may get killed the next minute. Come on, let’s get to Max’s before they shoot the lock in. I don’t think they’ll risk the noise, but with these types you never know.”
They were standing in a sort of archway leading to an inner courtyard of what had once been a large palais. Like so many big Viennese houses it was no longer tenanted by impoverished aristocratic owners and had been converted to flats. Without a word Frankie ran to a side door in the courtyard, which she opened with another key.
They passed through into a large almost pitch-dark entrance hall. A wide flight of bare stone steps led upwards, and Simon followed the girl up them. On the first landing she paused and opened a door with yet another key. The Saint stopped for a moment and listened but there were no sounds of pursuit. Their enemies had probably decided that it would not be politic to break down the outer door. After all, even Gestapo agents would have to explain their actions to aroused tenants and the police if they were called, and apparently for some reason the present exercise was one that they had been ordered to carry out with great discretion.
Simon followed Frankie through the door and closed it after him. The change from the bleak stone of the stairway and landing was dramatic. They were now in a long passage, thickly carpeted and hung with portraits lit by indirect lighting. The baroque plaster-work of the walls and ceiling was scrolled and touched with gold leaf, and the air was warm and comforting. Several doors opened off this wide hallway. They were big and stately, with ornamented panels and heavy gilded door-knobs.
Simon knew that the post-war housing laws in Vienna were very strict, and no owner, unless he could show good cause, or was very influential, was allowed to have more than a certain number of untenanted rooms in his premises. He guessed that Max was probably one of the privileged and that there were no “lodgers” in these several rooms.
At the end of the passage was a wide double door. Frankie opened it without knocking, and they passed through into a large handsomely furnished drawing-room, brilliantly lit by a chandelier and wall sconces. All the lights were on, as if to push more than just darkness from every comer. One felt that anything unpleasant or even disturbing could not breach the security of this room.
A blazing wood fire in the hearth made the room come alive with its variegated lights. Max was sitting in a chair by it, the Siamese cat on his lap.
He looked up as they entered. For a moment he appeared startled. Then he gave a cry of pleasure.
“Frankie, Gott sei dank!”
He leapt to his feet and Thai cascaded to the floor. The cat gave them all an affronted look and jumped up on to a sofa where he sat glaring distrustfully.
Max’s eyes met those of the Saint.
“Ah, Mr er... er... Taylor. How delightful to meet you again! As a tourist, you certainly get around Vienna!”
Frankie moved quickly to the fire and held out her hands towards the comforting blaze.
“They are downstairs,” she told Max in German.
“Who?”
“The men who kidnapped me. I think they are Gestapo.”
Max glanced at Simon.
“I think it would be polite to our guest to speak English,” he said in that tongue.
The girl followed suit.
“If you like, but he speaks fluent German. Max, may I introduce Mr Simon Templar, otherwise known as the Saint?”
For a long while Max stared at Simon. Then he gave a low whistle.
“So, we are indeed honoured!”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Simon replied blandly. “I’ve had a very entertaining evening. And I find the Gestapo adds a new dimension to life.”
Max grimaced.
“It certainly does! Unfortunately it is not such a nice one. Anyway, you will have a whisky while you are here, no?”
“Not no,” said the Saint. “Yes, thank you very much.”
He sat down next to Thai on the sofa and accepted the drink which Max brought him. The cat looked at the whisky with interest, his ears pricked, as if inviting the Saint to give him a sip.
There was a sudden noise as the door was flung open. A young man entered.
He was slightly built, slim, and he moved gracefully with an impression of controlled strength. His thick black hair was brushed smoothly straight back and his tanned face was aquiline and aristocratic.
“Frankie!” he cried when he saw the girl. “Wie bist du denn entflohen? Ich habe die ganze Zeit nach dir gesucht seit wir deine Botschaft bekamen!”
He walked swiftly over to the girl, taking both her hands in his. He kissed one of them and then her cheek. She looked into his eyes and smiled. There was obviously a close bond between them.
Turning towards Simon she spoke in English.
“I owe my life to our friend here. He just rescued me from the Gestapo. Mr Templar, may I introduce Count Leopold Denksdorff, my cousin?”
Simon’s name apparently meant nothing to the young man, who bowed curtly.
“How do you do?” he said formally.
His English, like Frankie’s, though heavily accented was excellent. Most Austrian aristocrats, as Simon knew, felt a close affinity to the English and, even after having been their enemies in a terrible conflict, emulated them whenever possible.
The Saint ignored young Denksdorff’s brusque manner.
“I won’t be sending a bill,” he said pleasantly. “Frankie’s thanks are more than enough.”
Max intervened tactfully.
“Tell us the story of your escape, Frankie.”
He and Leopold listened attentively to Frankie’s vivid account of her adventures, and explaining Simon’s part in them. The Saint observed the others closely, assessing them and their relationships. They seemed to be completely at home with each other in spite of their different temperaments and the fact that Max Annellatt’s background was quite different from that of the two young aristocrats. This camaraderie was surprising even in the new democratic Austria. Habits of over a thousand years die hard, and the Austrian nobility were still a very cliquey lot.
When she had finished, the girl turned towards Simon.
“But all is well. Mr Templar is going to help us to get the Necklace. I have told him where it is.” She gave Simon a dazzling smile. “He will give us a plan.”