Podstrony
|
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Holm girl before they left?"
Page 118
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He went to the instrument, held his light steadily on it and dialled Scotland
Yard. As soon as the switchboard operator answered he spoke in a deep voice
with a forced foreign inflection.
"Take this down garefully," he said distinctly. "Simon Templar, alias the
Saint, alias the Z-Man, is at this moment gidnabbing Beatrice Avery, the film
star, from her apartment in Barkside Gourt. That's all."
He hung up before the operator could answer.
" 'Ere, wot abaht me?" demanded Tyler frantically. "You got a ruddy nerve,
usin' my phone for that job. They can trace that call. Think I want the cops
round 'ere arskin' questions?"
"You know nothing about it," said Raddon calmly. "You left the garage
unlocked, and somebody used your phone. What does it matter, you fool? They
can't pin anything on you. I had to get through to the Yard at once. If they
pull Templar in he'll spend the next two weeks trying to explain his
movements. The Yard's been trying to get him for years, and if they catch him
red-handed snatching the Avery girl they'll send him up for a ten-year
stretch."
He turned to the instrument again and flashed his light on the dial. Placing
his body between the telephone and the other two men so that they could not
watch the movements of his finger, he quickly dialled another number and
waited. He listened to the steady "burr-burr" for a few moments, and then a
voice answered.
"Raddon here," he said in a rapid subdued voice. "Something has gone wrong.
Can't do anything more this evening. Better turn our attention to the next
proposition. . . ." He broke off and listened. "All right. Usual place
tomorrow, as early as possible."
He hung up at once and found Welmont looking curiously at him out of his
ferret eyes.
"Was that Z?" Welmont asked.
"It was Gandhi," answered Raddon curtly. "If you're ready we'll go. There's
nothing more for tonight. Too dangerous to move until we know more about
Templar."
They departed none too soon for Tyler, who was jumpy and worried leaving one
of the big double doors slightly ajar.
Simon Templar stroked the cog of his lighter and inhaled deeply and
luxuriously from a much-needed cigarette. He heard the three men walking over
the cobbles outside; and then silence. With the lithe ease of a panther he
lowered himself from the overhead beam on which he had been lying at full
length, dropped to the roof of the taxi and thence descended to the ground.
There was a smile on his lips as he dusted himself down. That beam, so easily
reached from the roof of the taxi, had positively asked him to make its
aquaint-ance when he had first glanced up at it. Patricia, he knew, could
handle her end of the job with smooth efficiency; he had had a couple of
minutes earnest talk with her before they parted. For Simon Templar, even
before he left the cellar, had put in some of that characteristic quick
thinking which was the everlasting despair of the law and the ungodly alike.
His restless brain, working at supercharged pressure, had looked into the
Page 119
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
immediate future with a clarity that was little short of clairvoyant; he had
formulated a plan of action out of a situation that had not even acquired a
definite geography. But that power of thinking ahead into the most remote
possibilities was the gift which had so often left his enemies breathless in
the background, hopelessly outpaced by the hurricane speed of the Saint's
imagination. . . .
Which satisfactorily explains why he was still in Mr Tyler's garage, dusting
the well-creased knees of his impeccable Anderson & Sheppard trousers and by
no means dissatisfied with the results of his roosting. He grinned helplessly
as he realised how easily the departed trio could have seen him if they had
only looked up into the dusty rafters. Not that it would have mattered much:
he was armed, and they weren't. However, it was just as well that he had
remained undiscovered. His ears hadn't told him much more than he knew
already; but his eyes had served him well.
Raddon's phone call to Scotland Yard had given him nothing to worry about. If
he knew anything of Patricia she would be through with Beatrice Avery long
before the padded shoulders of the law could darken the portals of Parkside
Court.
His eyes had served him on the second phone call. Lying along the overhead
beam, he had looked straight down upon the telephone. . . . He chuckled as he
thought of Raddon's precautions. Raddon would never have used the instrument
at all for his second call if it had been one of the old-fashioned
non-dialling type. He couldn't have given his number to the exchange without
giving it to Welmont and Tyler at the same time. Dialling was different: he
had only to obtrude his body between his companions and the telephone, and
they couldn't possibly know what number he had called.
But the Saint, with a perfect bird's-eye view, had watched every movement of
Raddon's fingers on the dial; his supersensitive ears had listened to every
click of the returning disc; he had memorized the number and tucked it
securely away in a corner of his retentive brain. Raddon's finger had first
jabbed into the PRS hole, then into the ABC, then into the PRS again. This
could only mean one exchange PAR, otherwise PARliament. The numbers were easy,
Raddon had called PARliament 5577.
The Z-Man's telephone number! Or, at least,a number he was in the practice of
using.
There were ways and means of discovering to whom that number had been
allocated. Searching through the London Telephone Directory was one of them,
but the Saint had never been able to rave about that particularly tedious
occupation. There were easier methods. One of them he tried at once. He
dialled PARIiament 5577 himself and blew smoke rings at the mouthpiece while
he waited. His connection came quickly, and a thick voice said:
"Vell?"
"The same to you, comrade," said the Saint fraternally. "Kindly put me
through to Mr Thistle-thwaite "
"Vot? Der iss nobody named that," said the thick voice.
"You'll pardon me, but there's a very large somebody named that," said the
Saint firmly. "Senior partner of the firm of Thistlethwaite and Aber-nethy "
"This iss not the firm you say."
Page 120
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"No? Then who is it?" asked the Saint obstinately. "What's the idea of using
Thistlethwaite and Aber-nethy's telephone number? Aren't you Parliament 5577?"
"Yes."
"Then don't be silly. You're Thistlethwaite. Or are you Abernethy?"
"Ve are not dose names," shouted the thick voice.
The line became dead, but Simon Templar was not discouraged. He had not
expected to click at the first attempt. He dialled the number a second time
and waited.
"Vell?"
"Oh, it's you again, is it?" said the Saint cheerfully. "Vell I mean, well,
that proves that youmust be Thistlethwaite. Or else you're Abernethy. I damn
well know I dialled the right number."
"Ve arenot Thistle-vot-you-say und somebody," roared the thick voice, its
owner clearly under the impression that he was dealing with a genial half-wit.
"You got the wrong number again, you fool!"
"If you're Parliament 5577 you're Thistlethwaite and Abernethy," insisted the
Saint. "Think I don't know?"
"Ve are Zeidelmann und Co.," bellowed the angry voice, "und ve know nothing
of the peoples you say."
"Well I'm damned!" said Simon in surprise. "Then am I the bloke who's been
making the mistake? A thousand apologies, dear old frankfurter. And the same
to Co."
He hung up, and with his cigarette slanting dangerously out of the corner of
his mouth he turned over the last few pages of Vol. II of the London Telephone
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plkskarol.keep.pl
|
