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."Simon helped the man inside and sat him on a settee beside the lift.TheAmerican tipped off his Panama and wiped his forehead with a bandannahandkerchief."Just four days outa the hospital and tearin' about like a fool for two of'em.And missed my lunch today.That's what's done it.Say, is there a publictelephone here? I promised to meet my wife an hour ago, and she must think Ihad myself a street accident.""I'm afraid there isn't," said the Saint."This is just a block of flats.""Well, I guess I'll just be bawled out.Gosh, but that poor kid'll be worriedstiff!"Simon looked up at the clock.He was in no great hurry."You can phone from my flat if you like," he said."It's on the second floor.""Say, that's real kind of you!"The Saint helped him into the lift, and they shot upwards.Settled in anarmchair beside the telephone, the American made a reassuring call to theSavoy Hotel number.Simon thought it was excessively sloppy, but it was nothis business."Well, that's that," said his guest, and when the gush was over, "I guess Iowe you something for your kindness.Have a cigar?"Simon accepted the weed.It was a large fat one, with a lovely picture on theband."Think of me cracking up like that in your arms!" prattled the American, whosevocal cords at least seemed unimpaired."Gosh, you musta thought I wassomething out of a flower-bed.I didn't know they could take that much outayou along with your appendix.And all this fuss to find a damn brass Buddha!Gosh, it makes you wonder what nut started this collecting game."The Saint, with a match half-way to his cigar, stared at him till the flamescorched his fingers."Brass Buddha?" he said faintly."Who wants a brass Bud-dha?""Louis Froussard wants one, if that means anything to you, friend.But here amI in your apartment, and you don't even know my name.Allow me." The Americandug out his wallet, extracted a card and handed it over."James G.Amberson,at your service.Any time you want one of Napoleon's skulls, or the originalpyjamas the Queen of Sheba gave to King Solo-mon-I'm just the man to go andfind 'em.Yes, sir.That's my job-huntin' for missing links for museums andmillionaires who feel they gotta collect something so's they can give thereporters something to write about.That's me.""And you want a brass Buddha?" said the Saint, almost ca-ressingly.James G.Amberson (according to his card, the G.stood for Gardiner, which theSaint thought was very modest-it might have been Gabriel) flapped a raw-bonedhand deprecatingly.Page 49 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Aw, you ain't gonna offer me the thing your auntie brought home last time shewent on a world cruise, are you? Everyone in London's got a brass Buddha, butnone of 'em is the right one.This one's a special one-you wouldn't know it tolook at it, but it is.Some Chink emperor back in about two million b.c.hadthree of 'em made for his three daughters, who were no better than theyshoulda been, accordin' to history-you don't wanna know all that hooey, doyou? I guess I'm a bit fuddled over it myself.But anyhow, Lou Froussard hasgot two of 'em, and he wants the third.I gotta find it.Sounds like I'd takenon a long job, don't it?"Simon drew on his cigar a little less impetuously."How will you know this particular one when you find it?" he asked."Say, that's easy.It's got a little Chinese dedication carved in the base andfilled with red paint.I don't know any language except plain English, butthis daughter's name comes in the dedication and I got a Chink to show me whatit looked like- Gosh, is that cigar sour or something?""No-it's a swell cigar.Would you mind showing me what this name looks like?"The other's eyes opened rather blankly, but he took out a pencil and sketcheda character on the back of the envelope."There she is, friend.Say, you're looking at me like I was a mummy come tolife.What's the matter?"The Saint filled his lungs.For him, the day had suddenly bloomed out into arich surpassing beauty that only those who have shared his delight in damagingthe careers of pompous old sinners with bushy grey face-hair can understand.The radiance of his own inspiration dazzled him."Nothing's the matter," he said seraphically."Nothing on earth could be thematter on a day like this.How many mil-lions will your Mr.Froussard give forthat Buddha?""Well, millions is a large word," said Amberson, cautiously, looking at theSaint in not unreasonable perplexity."But I guess I could pay fifteenthousand bucks for it.""You find the bucks, and I'll find your Buddha," said the Saint.Amberson grinned, and stood up."I don't know whether you've got an ace in the hole or whether you're justpulling my leg," he remarked; "but if you can find that Buddha the fifteengrand are waitin' for you.Say, I'm real grateful to you for helpin' me outlike this.Come to the Savoy and have lunch tomorrow-and you can bring theBuddha with you, if you've found it.""Thanks," said the Saint."I'll do both."He showed Amberson to the door, and came straight back to grab the telephone.Sir Ambrose Grange was out, he was in-formed, but he was expected back aboutsix.Simon bought his evening paper, found that the favourite had won-he neverbacked favourites-and was at the telephone again, when the hour struck."I'm taking you at your word and coming over to see you, Sir Ambrose."Page 50 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Delighted, my dear sir," said the knight, somewhat plaintively."But if you'dtold me I could have got hold of some girls --""Never mind the girls," said Simon.He arrived at the lodgings in Seymour Street where Sir Am-brose maintained hismodest bachelor pied-a-terre half an hour later, and plunged into his businesswithout preliminaries."I've come to buy your Buddha," he said."Two thousand was what your unclewanted, wasn't it?"Sir Ambrose goggled at him for some seconds; and then he laughed feebly."Ho, ho, ho! I bought that one, didn't I, by gad! Getting a bit slow on theuptake, what? Never mind, sir-have a drink.""I'm not being comic," said the Saint."I want your Buddha and I'll give youtwo thousand for it.I backed sixteen losers last week, and if I don't get agood mascot I shall be in the bankruptcy court."After several minutes he was able to convince Sir Ambrose that his lunacy, ifinexplicable, was backed up by a ready chequebook.He wrote the figures with aflourish, and Sir Am-brose found himself fumbling for a piece of paper and astamp to make out the receipt.Simon read the document through-it was typical.Received from Mr.Simon Templar, by cheque, the sum of Two Thousand Pounds,being payment for a Brass Buddha which he knows is only worth fifteenshillings.Ambrose Grange."Just to prove I knew what I was doing? I expected that."Sir Ambrose looked at him suspiciously."I wish I knew what you wanted that thing for," he said."Even my uncle onlywanted us to get a thousand for it, but I thought I'd double it for luck.Twothousand couldn't be much more impossible than one." He heaved withchin-quivering mirth."Well, my dear sir, if you can make a profit on twothousand, I shan't complain.Ho, ho, ho, ho! Have a drink.""Sometimes," said the Saint quite affably, "I wonder why there's no lawclassifying men like you as vermin, and authoriz-ing you to be sprayed withDDT on sight."He routed out Peter Quentin before going home that night, and uttered the samephilosophy to him-even more affably.The brass Buddha sat on a table besidehis bed when he turned in, and he blew it a kiss before he switched out thelight and sank into the dreamless sleep of a contented corsair.He paraded at the Savoy at twelve-thirty the next day.At two o'clock Patricia Holm found him in the grill room.Simon beckoned the waiter who had just poured out his coffee, and asked foranother cup [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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."Simon helped the man inside and sat him on a settee beside the lift.TheAmerican tipped off his Panama and wiped his forehead with a bandannahandkerchief."Just four days outa the hospital and tearin' about like a fool for two of'em.And missed my lunch today.That's what's done it.Say, is there a publictelephone here? I promised to meet my wife an hour ago, and she must think Ihad myself a street accident.""I'm afraid there isn't," said the Saint."This is just a block of flats.""Well, I guess I'll just be bawled out.Gosh, but that poor kid'll be worriedstiff!"Simon looked up at the clock.He was in no great hurry."You can phone from my flat if you like," he said."It's on the second floor.""Say, that's real kind of you!"The Saint helped him into the lift, and they shot upwards.Settled in anarmchair beside the telephone, the American made a reassuring call to theSavoy Hotel number.Simon thought it was excessively sloppy, but it was nothis business."Well, that's that," said his guest, and when the gush was over, "I guess Iowe you something for your kindness.Have a cigar?"Simon accepted the weed.It was a large fat one, with a lovely picture on theband."Think of me cracking up like that in your arms!" prattled the American, whosevocal cords at least seemed unimpaired."Gosh, you musta thought I wassomething out of a flower-bed.I didn't know they could take that much outayou along with your appendix.And all this fuss to find a damn brass Buddha!Gosh, it makes you wonder what nut started this collecting game."The Saint, with a match half-way to his cigar, stared at him till the flamescorched his fingers."Brass Buddha?" he said faintly."Who wants a brass Bud-dha?""Louis Froussard wants one, if that means anything to you, friend.But here amI in your apartment, and you don't even know my name.Allow me." The Americandug out his wallet, extracted a card and handed it over."James G.Amberson,at your service.Any time you want one of Napoleon's skulls, or the originalpyjamas the Queen of Sheba gave to King Solo-mon-I'm just the man to go andfind 'em.Yes, sir.That's my job-huntin' for missing links for museums andmillionaires who feel they gotta collect something so's they can give thereporters something to write about.That's me.""And you want a brass Buddha?" said the Saint, almost ca-ressingly.James G.Amberson (according to his card, the G.stood for Gardiner, which theSaint thought was very modest-it might have been Gabriel) flapped a raw-bonedhand deprecatingly.Page 49 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Aw, you ain't gonna offer me the thing your auntie brought home last time shewent on a world cruise, are you? Everyone in London's got a brass Buddha, butnone of 'em is the right one.This one's a special one-you wouldn't know it tolook at it, but it is.Some Chink emperor back in about two million b.c.hadthree of 'em made for his three daughters, who were no better than theyshoulda been, accordin' to history-you don't wanna know all that hooey, doyou? I guess I'm a bit fuddled over it myself.But anyhow, Lou Froussard hasgot two of 'em, and he wants the third.I gotta find it.Sounds like I'd takenon a long job, don't it?"Simon drew on his cigar a little less impetuously."How will you know this particular one when you find it?" he asked."Say, that's easy.It's got a little Chinese dedication carved in the base andfilled with red paint.I don't know any language except plain English, butthis daughter's name comes in the dedication and I got a Chink to show me whatit looked like- Gosh, is that cigar sour or something?""No-it's a swell cigar.Would you mind showing me what this name looks like?"The other's eyes opened rather blankly, but he took out a pencil and sketcheda character on the back of the envelope."There she is, friend.Say, you're looking at me like I was a mummy come tolife.What's the matter?"The Saint filled his lungs.For him, the day had suddenly bloomed out into arich surpassing beauty that only those who have shared his delight in damagingthe careers of pompous old sinners with bushy grey face-hair can understand.The radiance of his own inspiration dazzled him."Nothing's the matter," he said seraphically."Nothing on earth could be thematter on a day like this.How many mil-lions will your Mr.Froussard give forthat Buddha?""Well, millions is a large word," said Amberson, cautiously, looking at theSaint in not unreasonable perplexity."But I guess I could pay fifteenthousand bucks for it.""You find the bucks, and I'll find your Buddha," said the Saint.Amberson grinned, and stood up."I don't know whether you've got an ace in the hole or whether you're justpulling my leg," he remarked; "but if you can find that Buddha the fifteengrand are waitin' for you.Say, I'm real grateful to you for helpin' me outlike this.Come to the Savoy and have lunch tomorrow-and you can bring theBuddha with you, if you've found it.""Thanks," said the Saint."I'll do both."He showed Amberson to the door, and came straight back to grab the telephone.Sir Ambrose Grange was out, he was in-formed, but he was expected back aboutsix.Simon bought his evening paper, found that the favourite had won-he neverbacked favourites-and was at the telephone again, when the hour struck."I'm taking you at your word and coming over to see you, Sir Ambrose."Page 50 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Delighted, my dear sir," said the knight, somewhat plaintively."But if you'dtold me I could have got hold of some girls --""Never mind the girls," said Simon.He arrived at the lodgings in Seymour Street where Sir Am-brose maintained hismodest bachelor pied-a-terre half an hour later, and plunged into his businesswithout preliminaries."I've come to buy your Buddha," he said."Two thousand was what your unclewanted, wasn't it?"Sir Ambrose goggled at him for some seconds; and then he laughed feebly."Ho, ho, ho! I bought that one, didn't I, by gad! Getting a bit slow on theuptake, what? Never mind, sir-have a drink.""I'm not being comic," said the Saint."I want your Buddha and I'll give youtwo thousand for it.I backed sixteen losers last week, and if I don't get agood mascot I shall be in the bankruptcy court."After several minutes he was able to convince Sir Ambrose that his lunacy, ifinexplicable, was backed up by a ready chequebook.He wrote the figures with aflourish, and Sir Am-brose found himself fumbling for a piece of paper and astamp to make out the receipt.Simon read the document through-it was typical.Received from Mr.Simon Templar, by cheque, the sum of Two Thousand Pounds,being payment for a Brass Buddha which he knows is only worth fifteenshillings.Ambrose Grange."Just to prove I knew what I was doing? I expected that."Sir Ambrose looked at him suspiciously."I wish I knew what you wanted that thing for," he said."Even my uncle onlywanted us to get a thousand for it, but I thought I'd double it for luck.Twothousand couldn't be much more impossible than one." He heaved withchin-quivering mirth."Well, my dear sir, if you can make a profit on twothousand, I shan't complain.Ho, ho, ho, ho! Have a drink.""Sometimes," said the Saint quite affably, "I wonder why there's no lawclassifying men like you as vermin, and authoriz-ing you to be sprayed withDDT on sight."He routed out Peter Quentin before going home that night, and uttered the samephilosophy to him-even more affably.The brass Buddha sat on a table besidehis bed when he turned in, and he blew it a kiss before he switched out thelight and sank into the dreamless sleep of a contented corsair.He paraded at the Savoy at twelve-thirty the next day.At two o'clock Patricia Holm found him in the grill room.Simon beckoned the waiter who had just poured out his coffee, and asked foranother cup [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]