"Did I bop de wrong guys again, boss ?" asked Mr Uniatz anxiously.
3 The siren of the Alicante Star boomed its last warning over the harbour. A steward walked round the deck, beating the last "All Ashore" on his little gong. The last belated tourists panted up the gangway, laden down with their last purchases of junk, and looking as ridiculous and repulsive as tourists always look, no more and no less. The last Hindu merchants waved their lace tablecloths and shawls on the wharf and bawled the praises of their expensive last-minute bargains. The last guardia at the head of the gangway settled his belt and gazed arrogantly around him, and the last rich snort and gurgle and splash with which he economised on the laundry bills of his pocket handkerchiefs resounded juicily over the mingled sound effects.
The Saint shifted himself unwillingly off the rail.
"I'll have to be on my way," he said.
"You're not staying here?" Christine said falteringly.
He smiled.
"I shouldn't have time to get the car on board. And besides, Hoppy and I are booked for a boat on Monday. I've promised to go and see a young godson tomorrow."
"You won't be safe-the police will be looking for you --"
"My dear, they've been looking for me for years. I've been chased by bigger and better cops than they'll ever grow on this island, and it never did me much harm."
She could believe it. He was invincible. She had watched him in battle for twenty-four hours, and it made all the legends about him simple to understand.
"But what's going to happen to us-to Joris and me?"
"Nothing," said the Saint. "I'll send a cable tonight to a friend of mine in London to fly out and meet you at Lisbon with a couple of brand-new passports ready to fill up in any names you like. You get off the boat at Lisbon, when everybody else gets off for an excursion, and you just forget to get on again. Then you travel overland to the Riviera, or wherever you want to settle down, and so long as you behave yourselves no one will ever bother you. The hunt for Joris has probably got tired of itself by this time, anyhow. And any bank will collect your lottery prize for you. It hasn't any name on it, and there's nobody left to make a fuss. By the way, I nearly forgot to give you the ticket."
He fished it out from among the ballast of jewels in one of his pockets. It had a slight tear in one corner and a smudged stain on the back of it, for it had been in Reuben Graner's breast pocket when Mr Uniatz used his Betsy; and the girl's hand shook a little as she took it.
"Some of this is yours," she said.
He shook his head.
"I got my share out of the safe."
"But I promised you --"
"I know. But I'll be honest with you. At the beginning of things, I wasn't at all sure that I wasn't looking for the ticket just for myself. So that makes us all square."
A steward poked his nose between them.
"Hixcuse me, sir," he said. "Har you going with us?"
"I wish I were," said the Saint.
"You'd better 'urry up, then, sir. They're going to take horf the gangway."
"Go and sit on a nail, will you?" said the Saint patiently.
The vague bustle on the deck was rising in a form-less crescendo.
"You could stay," said Christine.
"I can't, darling."
She still clung to him.
"I promised you so much."
His smile was the same, but the habitual mockery had softened in his eyes.
"It's my fault if I can't stay to claim it."
"But I want you to! My dear, don't you see? I've waited-waited all my life. . . . You took me out of that. It was like a miracle. You can-be what you are. . . . I'm no better. There can never be anyone else."
"You're young," said the Saint gently. "There will be."
"Larst charnce for the shore!" bellowed a brass-lunged steward.
"Never," she whispered.
His hands held her by the shoulders, as gentle as his voice. He smiled into her eyes.
"This is my life," he said quietly. "For me it's the best there is; but.you've had too much of it already You will find better things. One day you'll meet someone else, and you'll be glad that I didn't let you keep your promise. You must let a buccaneer have one big moment."
He drew her up to him and kissed her and she closed her eyes and pressed herself against him Presently he tore his lips away.
"Good-bye Christine."
He unlocked her arms and turned quickly away. She saw him shouldering through the crowd, vaulting the handrail, and running down the half-raised gangway to jump the last six feet to the dock. She saw him walking with his long easy stride across to the shining Hirondel where Hoppy Uniatz sat waiting for him, where he stopped and turned to wave to her, tall and smiling and debonair,, one closed hand resting on his hip with all the gay lazy swagger that was the Saint, his other hand raised in farewell. So she would always remember him. And so, thought the Saint, he would always remember her. He stood there for a long time, watching the ship creep away from the mole. ...
Mr Uniatz took the cigar out of his mouth.
"Dese dames are all de same, boss," he said sympathetically.
"So are dese guys," said the Saint.
ĄHasta la vista !
(bm)