The Avenging Saint (The Saint Series)
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For weeks the Saint had been hunting two men across Europe...and one of them at least he had sworn to kill. Face-to-face with his quarry in London, Simon Templar takes his own side in a nightmare game of international conspiracy, rescues a beautiful pawn, checkmates a fiendish plot...and saves his king.
the best and brightest moments of the frolic are still ahead—so why worry about anything?” He smiled down at her—at least, there was a Saintly glitter behind the thick glasses that he had perched upon his nose, though his mouth was hidden. And as Sonia Delmar stood up she was shaken by a great wave of unreasoning gratefulness—to the circumstances that made it necessary to switch off thus abruptly from the line of thought that he had opened up so lightly, and to the Saint himself, for making it
rail. “And that only leaves the quartermaster. Who says piracy isn’t easy? Hold on while I show you…!” He slipped away like a ghost, but the girl stayed where she was. She saw him enter the wheel-house, and then his shadow bulked across one lighted window. She held her breath, tensing herself against the inevitable outcry—surely such luck could not hold for third encounter…! But there was no sound. He appeared again, calling her name, and she went to the wheel-house in a trance. There was a man
young man spoke freely of the Saint, and that name ran through the astounding structure like a webwork of steel girders, poising its most extravagant members, bearing it up steadfast and indefeasible against the storm. And the climax had come when, at the end of narrative and cross-examination, the crazy young man had laid his gun on the table and invited the millionaire to take his choice—Saltham or Scotland Yard… “Come on,” snapped Roger. He was already out of the car, and Lessing followed
sudden start. “Anyway, your pals know me. Ask the Crown Prince—or Dr Marius. And remember to give them my love…” The Saint laughed shortly, and Heinrich Dussel was still staring at him, white-lipped, when the servant returned to report that the constable was watching the house from the opposite pavement, talking to a newspaperman. “You seem annoyed, Heinrich,” remarked the Saint, gently bantering, though the glitter behind Dussel’s thick glasses should have told him that he was as near sudden
empty eyes. “I am never beaten, Templar,” he said. “But you are beaten this time,” said the Saint. Tomorrow morning I shall come back, and we shall settle our account. And, in case I fail, I shall bring the police with me. They will be very interested to hear all the things I shall have to tell them. The private plotting of wars for gain may not be punishable by any laws, but men are hanged for high treason. Even now, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t rather have you hanged. There’s something very