The Saint vs Scotland Yard (35 page)

“Boy,” she said, “I couldn’t be happier than I am
now.”

He did not move. She went on, quickly:

“Don’t say it, Simon! I don’t want you to. Haven’t we both got
everything we want as it is? Isn’t life splendid enough?
Aren’t we
going to have more adventures, and—and—”

“Fun and games for ever?”

“Yes! Aren’t we? Why spoil the magic? I won’t listen to you.
Even if we’ve missed out on
this adventure—”

Suddenly he laughed. His hands went to his hips. She had
been
waiting for that laugh. She had put all she was into the
task of
winning it. And, with that laugh, the spell that had
held his eyes so quiet
and steady was broken. She saw the leap
of the old mirth and
glamour lighting them again. She was
happy.

“Pat, is that really what you want?”

“It’s everything I want.”

“To go on with the fighting and the fun? To go on racketing around
the world, doing everything that’s utterly and
gloriously mad—swaggering, swashbuckling,
singing—showing
all these dreary old-dogs
what can be done with life—not
giving
a damn for anyone—robbing the rich, helping the poor
—plaguing the pompous—killing dragons, pulling
policemen’s
legs——
”

“I’m ready for it all!”

He caught her hands.

“Are
you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Not one tiny little doubt about it?”

“Not one.”

“Then we can start this minute.”

She stared.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

The Saint loosened his belt and pointed downwards. Even then, she didn’t
understand.

“Remember how I found Bertie? He was halfway into the
Lovedew’s
wardrobe trunk. We had a short but merry scrap.
And then he went on
in. Well, during the tumult and the
shouting, and the general excitement,
in the course of which
Bertie soaked up one of the juiciest K.O.s
I’ve ever distrib
uted—”

He broke off and the girl turned round in amazed perplex
ity.

From somewhere on the
Berengaria
had pealed out the wild
and
frantic shriek of an irreparably outraged camel collapsing
under the
last intolerable straw.

Patricia turned again, her face blank with bewilderment.

“What on earth was that?” she asked.

The Saint smiled seraphically.

“That was the death-cry of old Pimply-face. They’ve just
opened her
trunk and discovered Bertie. And he has no
trousers on. We can
begin our travels right now,” said the
Saint.