Saint Steps In Read Online Free PDF

quite simply
and clearly, that some thing had touched the door behind him.
    He
moved towards It on soundless feet, while his voice went on without the slightest change of pace or inflection.
    “… I believe if you take a folding cot and a camp stove and park in his outer office for a few days you
can sometimes get in a word with his
secretary’s secretary’s secretary …”
    Simon’s
hand touched the doorknob and whipped the door open in one movement of lightning suddenness. And with an other movement that followed the first with the
precision of a reciprocating engine,
he shot out another hand to grasp the collar
of the man who crouched outside with an article like a small old-fashioned ear-trumpet at his ear.
    “Come
in, chum,” he said cordially. “Come in and intro duce yourself. Are you the house
detective, or were you just feeling lonely?”
    The eavesdropper found himself whirled into   the room, clutching wildly at the air in a vain effort to regain his balance.
    Before
he could recover himself, one of his arms was hauled up painfully behind his
back, and he found himself helpless.
    “Don’t scream, darling,” Simon said to the girl. “It’s
just a surprise visit from
somebody who wanted to make certain he wasn’t intruding before he knocked.”
    His free hand moved swiftly over his captive’s clothes, but discovered no gun. Simon twisted the
eavesdropper around and
stared into his face. Then he relaxed his hold on the stranger’s arm. The man
cautiously stretched the twisted member and began rubbing it, half whimpering as he did.
    “Know
him?” asked the Saint of the girl.
    Wordlessly, Madeline Gray shook her head.
    “Not exactly the type,” Simon remarked, cocking his head on one side. “He looks more like
the typical bookkeeper who’s due to get pensioned off with a nice gold watch for fifty years of uninterrupted service, and never a
vacation or a day off for sickness.”
    The little man continued rubbing his arm, squeaking. He looked something like a careworn mouse
in ill-fitting clothes, with shoe-button eyes and two rodent teeth that protruded over his lower lip. As the pain in his
arm subsided, he worked hard to present a picture of outraged innocence.
    “Sir!” he began.
    “Even
talks like amouse,” observed the Saint coolly.
    “I’ll have satisfaction for this,” said the eavesdropper.
“This is—this is scandalous! When a man is attacked in the hallway of a prominent hotel by ahoodlum
who practically breaks his arm, it’s time—”
    “All
right, Junior,” the Saint said pleasantly. “We can do without all
that. Just who are you and who do you work for?”
    The
little man drew himself up to his full height of about five feet three.
    “I might ask you the same question,” he retorted. “Who
are you that you think you can
attack—— ”
    “Look,”
said the Saint. “I haven’t much time, and although I’m usually an exceedingly patient sort
of bloke, I’m slightly allergic to people who listen at my door with patent
listening gadgets. Who sent you here
and what did you expect to find out?”
    “My
name,” squeaked the little man, “is Sylvester Angert. And I was not
listening at your door. I was trying to find my own room. I thought this was
it. I was about to try my key in the
lock when you assaulted me.”
    “I see,” said the Saint thoughtfully. “Of course, you
didn’t check the number of my room
with the number on your key before you—er—prepared to try the lock. And you always have a good reason to listen to what
might be going on inside your room before you enter. Is that it?”
    The
little man’s eyes held Simon’s firmly for a second and then slid away.
    “If you must know,” he said, with a spark of defiance, “that’s exactly what I do.
Listen, I mean. I’ve done that ever since I had an unpleasant experience in Milwaukee. I walked into my room, and I was
held up by two thugs who were waiting for me there. I procured this