"Good Lord, no," said the Saint breezily. "Hoppy can sleep anywhere. He sleeps on his feet most of the day. You can't even tell the difference until you get used to him. If Joris wants anything, Hoppy will fix it; and if Hoppy can't fix it he'll call me; and if it's anything serious I'll call you. But you need all the rest you can get, the same as Joris."
He pushed Hoppy gently but firmly away towards his vigil and unlocked the other room with the key he had taken from downstairs. He switched on the lights and followed her in, locking the door after him and taking the key out to give to her.
"Keep it like that-just in case of accidents. It's not so much for tonight as for tomorrow, in case Graner and company get up early. You can lock the communicating door on your side."
He unlocked it and went through into his own room to rake a dressing gown out of his suitcase. When he turned round she had followed him. He hung the robe over her arm.
"It's the best I can do," he said. "I'm afraid my pajamas would be a bit loose on you, but you can have some if you like. Can you think of anything else ?"
"Have you got a spare cigarette?"
He took a packet off the dressing table and gave it to her.
"So if that's all we can do for you --"
She didn't make a move to go. She stood there with her hands in the pockets of her light coat and the dressing gown looped over her arm, looking at him with dried eyes that he suddenly realised might be impish. The light picked the burnished copper out of the curls on her russet head. Her coat was belted at the waist, and thrown open under the belt; under it the thin dress she wore flowed over slender curves that would have been disturbing to watch too closely.
"You didn't tell me why Graner's expecting you," she said.
He sank on to the end of the bed.
"That's easy. You see, I answered his telegram."
"You did?"
"Naturally. I knew Felson and Holby were jewel thieves. I recognised the name of Joris as ... Well, frankly, it was associated with a rather famous job of jewel borrowing. And an unknown Mr Graner seemed to be tied up with the whole party. So I figured that Comrade Graner would be worth looking at. I wired him 'Know very man. Have phoned him. Says he will leave immediately'-and signed it 'Felson.'"
"You mean you were going to work for him?"
"I never cut a diamond in my life, darling. And I don't work with anybody. I just thought it might pay a dividend if I got to know Reuben a little better. Reuben would pay the dividend-but not for services rendered."
"I see." There was a quirk of humour in her straightforward brown eyes. "You thought you could blackmail him."
His fine brows slanted up at her in a line of gay, unscrupulous mockery.
"I shouldn't put it like that myself. It probably wouldn't even be literally true. I'm an idealist. You could call me an adjuster of unjust differences. Why should Graner have such a lot of diamonds when I haven't any? If he's anything like what he sounds like from the way you talk about him, it's almost a sacred duty to adjust him. Hence my telegram."
"But suppose Rodney wired him something different?"
The Saint smiled.
"I don't think either Rodney or George is sending any wires just now," he said carefully. "After I picked up the telegram I followed them out of Chicote's to keep an eye on them. As soon as they got outside, a couple of birds in plain clothes flashed badges at them, and then they all got into a taxi and drove away. From the smug expressions of the badge merchants and the worried looks of Rodney and George, I gathered that whatever they were doing in Madrid must have sprung a leak. Anyway, it was good enough to take a chance on."
"But the others 'll recognise you."
"I doubt it. It was pretty dark on the road. I wouldn't be too sure of recognising them, apart from the identification marks I left on them-and I had a hat pulled down over my eyes. That's good enough to take a chance on too."
He put out his cigarette and stood up. The movement brought them face to face; and he put his hands on her shoulders.
"Don't worry any more tonight, Christine," he said. "I know it's pretty hard to take your mind off it, but you've got to try. In the morning we'll do some more work on it."
"Joris said it," she answered; "you've been very kind."
"For only doing half a job?" Simon asked flippantly.
"For being so confident and practical. I needed pulling together. It seems quite different now, with you helping us. It must be something about you. . . ."
Her face was turned up to his, and she was So close that he could almost feel the warmth of her body. His pulses beat faster, irresistibly, but his mind was cool. He smiled at her; and suddenly she turned away and went out of the room without looking back.
The Saint took another cigarette and lighted it with elaborately unhurried precision. For quite half a minute he stood still where she had left him, before he strolled over to the wardrobe mirror and examined himself with dispassionate interest.
"You're being seduced," he said.
Then he remembered that the Hirondel was still parked outside the hotel. It couldn't stay there all night; and a faint frown touched his forehead at the thought that perhaps it had stood out there too long already. But that couldn't be helped, he had had too many other things to think of before. Fortunately he had located a garage during the afternoon. He opened the door of his room very quietly and went downstairs again.
Already the square was almost deserted-Santa Cruz goes to bed early, for the convincing reason that there is nothing else to do. Simon got into the car and drove up the Calle Castillo. He drove slowly, feeling the effortless purr of the powerful engine soothing and smoothing out his mind, a cigarette slanting between his lips and his finger tips lightly caressing the wheel. The deep hum of the machine distilled itself into his senses, taking possession of him until it was as if the car led him on without any direction of his will. He had had no such thoughts when he left the hotel to put the car away. . . . But there was a turning on the right which he should have taken to go to the garage. . . . He passed it without a glance. The Hirondel droned on, up on to the La Laguna road- towards the house of Reuben Graner.
3 Simon Templar began to sing, a faint fragment of almost inaudible melody that harmonised with the soft undertones of the engine. The cool night air was refreshing on his face. He was smiling.
Possibly he was quite mad. If so, he always had been, and it was too late in life to worry about it. But it was his creed that adventure waited for no timetables, and everything he had ever done or ever would do was built up on that reckless faith. He was bound to visit Reuben Graner sometime. At the moment he felt as fresh and wide awake as if he had just got out of a cold bath; and the brief but breezy episode by the roadside a couple of hours before had only whetted his appetite. Why should he wait for some Spanish mańana to carry on with the good work?
Not that he had a single plan of campaign in his head. His mind was a clean slate on which impulse or circumstance or destiny might write anything that happened to amuse them. The Saint was broadmindedly prepared to co-operate in the business of being amused. . . .
A gleam of reminiscent humour touched his eyes as he recognised the spot where Joris Vanlinden had introduced himself so appropriately into the general course of events; and then he trod suddenly on the brakes in time to save the lives of a pareja, or brace, of guardias de asalto who stepped out into the path of his headlights and waved to him to stop. Looking around him he discovered that the road was littered with guardias of all shapes and sizes. He saw the sheen of the black oilcloth napoleonic hats of guardias civiles and the dull glint of carbines. There are various species of guardias in Spain, intended between them to perform the various functions of police work; and it is popularity believed that the word has no singular, since they are only seen in parejas, or braces, as inevitably as grouse. Even allowing for that, it seemed an unusual concentration; and the Saint's gaze narrowed slightly as the pareja which had stopped him closed in on either side of the car. A torch flashed in his face.