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front of his own body as a shield. As the beam of his flashlight swerved
up-wards with the movement, it flashed over the figure of Aliston, rising head
and shoulders over the other flight of stairs at the end of the veranda.
"Don't shoot," advised the Saint considerately, "or you'll have to fix your
own breakfast tomorrow."
It is possible that Aliston was too flustered to grasp the hint; or perhaps
the light of the torch on his face was too dazzling for him to be able to
appreciate the situation. For a second or two he stood frozen in openmouthed
bewilderment, while the Saint advanced quickly towards him, with the servant
locked in front of him by the encircling strength of one arm. Then Aliston
yelled and began to shoot. Once, twice... four times he snatched at the
trigger, and Simon could hear the bullets buzzing around him like angry
hornets. He kept moving forward. At the fifth shot it felt as though the man
he was holding had collided with a brick wall. Simon hitched him up and pushed
on. A sixth and a seventh shot went wide as Aliston's aim became wilder; then
Aliston's gun was empty. He looked at it stupidly for an instant, and then
flung it hysterically at the steadily advancing light in the Saint's hand. The
gun clattered along the veranda, and Aliston turned to bolt down the stairs.
Simon felt a warm dampness on his left hand where it was clutched around the
servant's waist.
"Hey!" he called out. "Look what you've done, Cecil. I warned you!"
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Aliston did not stay to look; and Simon pressed the trigger of his own gun for
the first time.
The hammer clicked on a faulty cartridge.
The Saint's smile brightened recklessly. He dropped the automatic and gripped
the body of the servant with both hands. He was at the head of the stairs now;
and halfway down, Aliston in his headlong flight had become entangled with
Graner, who was halfway up. They were clutching each other in a frantic effort
to regain their balance; and Simon lifted his burden well off the ground.
"After all, it's your breakfast, boys," he said, and hurled his human
cannonball downwards at them.
Then he hitched himself on to the banisters and slid downwards himself after
the flailing welter of arms and legs and bodies. It seemed to him that he
heard another shot, further away than it should have been to have come from
Graner's gun, but in the ex-citement he scarcely noticed it. He reached the
ground level just after the tumbling tangle of humanity hit it with a
corporate thud, and he seized Graner by the scruff of the neck and lifted him
out of the mess like a kitten. The Saint's smile glinted like sunshine before
Graner's blazing eyes.
"You slapped me once," said the Saint reminiscently.
He slapped Graner on the left cheek, then on the right; and then he drew back
his fist and punched him on the nose. He thought that he heard the bone
splinter, and the jar of the blow ran exquisitely up his arm.
Graner reeled back as if he had been flung from a catapult, until he smacked
into the opposite wall and slithered downwards. The Saint sprang after him
joyfully; and as he did. so Aliston's hand grabbed at his ankle.
Simon's arms windmilled desperately, but the impe-tus of his own leap was too
great. He went over in a heap, bruising his shoulder agonisingly as he fell,
and kicked out furiously to free himself. But Aliston's hand kept its grip
with the strength of a drowning man. Simon rolled over, with his other heel
scraping savagely at Aliston's knuckles; but against the far wall, well beyond
his reach, he saw Graner lifting his gun again.
The blood from Graner's flattened nose streamed down over his long upper lip
and painted crimson into the thin lips drawn back snarling from his teeth.
Simon Templar saw death reaching out for him, and smiled at it with all his
old sardonic mockery. It had still been a grand last fight....
Crack!... Crack!
He felt nothing, nothing at all, no pain, not even the impact of the bullets.
He was aware of no change in himself, and his thoughts went on uninterrupted.
The only difference was that the clutch on his ankle seemed to have gone-but
that was probably because his soul could not feel such material things. It
occurred to him that if death was like that, it was a very simple process. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]