fore and aft, a plump, apparently brainless woman whose thoughts should have dealt with nothing more dangerous than planning theater parties or buying Renoirs she couldn’t appreciate, Her lower lip protruded a little; that was the only change.
She looked at the Saint, and he felt one small flicker of chill as their eyes met. The glaring light seemed to bleach all color out of her eyes, and the ruthless ophidian coldness of the gaze in that powdered face was shocking.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said.
He started to stand up.
“Siddown!” Frankie barked; and the Saint raised his eyebrows as he subsided.
“Excuse me. It was just my old-world manners. I was always taught to stand up when a lady comes into the room-especially if she’s a Queen.”
Hoppy said incredulously: “Ya mean dat’s de King of de Beggars? Dat old bag?”
“Shut up,” Frankie snarled.
“It doesn’t matter what they say now,” Mrs. Wingate said. “Hazel—”
Big Hazel nodded and went to a small side table. She pulled out a drawer and took out the materials for a hypodermic injection-a syringe, ampules, cotton, alcohol. She began to fit a needle on the glass barrel of the syringe, as efficiently as a trained nurse. Simon realized that she might once have been one.
“Do we get the treatment too?” he asked.
Mrs. Wingate gave him a pale-eyed glance.
“Of course. There are several things I need to know immediately. I want to be sure you tell the truth.”
“You want to know how many people I’ve talked to, is that it?”
“A good deal depends on that, Mr. Templar. I have made my arrangements to disappear if necessary. But I hope it will not be necessary yet-or ever.”
“I see,” Simon murmured. “If you can keep your secret safe by a few more murders-very wise of you, Mrs. Wingate. I should have remembered my chess better-it’s the Queen that’s the most dangerous piece in the game. Not the King.”
“Chees,” Hoppy said blankly. “A dame-de King of de Beggars. An” I t’ought—”
“That it was Elliott. Well, we had some reason to. We were looking for a man in the first place. That’s exactly the false scent Mrs. Wingate meant to leave when she coined her title. You know, Hoppy, there was an Egyptian woman a long time ago who had herself crowned Pharaoh. She even insisted on appearing in public with a beard on state occasions. Mrs. Wingate never went quite that far, but the disguise was good enough, anyhow. And then she made such good use of Stephen Elliott’s property. The hotel, and this. She seems to specialize in that sort of operation-like giving me Sammy the Leg’s house. I don’t doubt that if anyone else gets hot on the trail, Elliott is the one who’s going to have the explaining to do.” He gazed at Mrs. Wingate thoughtfully. “Just between ourselves, and since it won’t go any farther, Laura, I wouldn’t mind betting now that Elliott isn’t even in the racket at all.”
A chilly smile lifted the corners of the woman’s mouth.
“Just between ourselves-and since it won’t go any farther, Mr. Templar-you’d win that bet.”
Simon nodded, and watched Big Hazel break the neck of an ampule and begin to fill the syringe.
“In the same vein,” he said, “would it be inquisitive to ask what happens to us after I’ve told you that Lieutenant Kearney knows where we are and is on his way after us?”
Laura Wingate’s fat face gave no visible response.
“An old bluff like that doesn’t frighten me,” she said. “Especially since I shall know the truth in a few minutes. But I’m glad to answer your question. As you may remember, we have a whisky bottle which you were kind enough to open for Big Hazel, I had meant to plant that in Sammy the Leg’s house, to help fix the Cleve Friend killing on you. Now Miss Varing’s interference has made me change my plans. I shall use it somewhere else to prove that you killed your man Uniatz in a quarrel over some stolen jewels-I think I
She looked at the Saint, and he felt one small flicker of chill as their eyes met. The glaring light seemed to bleach all color out of her eyes, and the ruthless ophidian coldness of the gaze in that powdered face was shocking.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said.
He started to stand up.
“Siddown!” Frankie barked; and the Saint raised his eyebrows as he subsided.
“Excuse me. It was just my old-world manners. I was always taught to stand up when a lady comes into the room-especially if she’s a Queen.”
Hoppy said incredulously: “Ya mean dat’s de King of de Beggars? Dat old bag?”
“Shut up,” Frankie snarled.
“It doesn’t matter what they say now,” Mrs. Wingate said. “Hazel—”
Big Hazel nodded and went to a small side table. She pulled out a drawer and took out the materials for a hypodermic injection-a syringe, ampules, cotton, alcohol. She began to fit a needle on the glass barrel of the syringe, as efficiently as a trained nurse. Simon realized that she might once have been one.
“Do we get the treatment too?” he asked.
Mrs. Wingate gave him a pale-eyed glance.
“Of course. There are several things I need to know immediately. I want to be sure you tell the truth.”
“You want to know how many people I’ve talked to, is that it?”
“A good deal depends on that, Mr. Templar. I have made my arrangements to disappear if necessary. But I hope it will not be necessary yet-or ever.”
“I see,” Simon murmured. “If you can keep your secret safe by a few more murders-very wise of you, Mrs. Wingate. I should have remembered my chess better-it’s the Queen that’s the most dangerous piece in the game. Not the King.”
“Chees,” Hoppy said blankly. “A dame-de King of de Beggars. An” I t’ought—”
“That it was Elliott. Well, we had some reason to. We were looking for a man in the first place. That’s exactly the false scent Mrs. Wingate meant to leave when she coined her title. You know, Hoppy, there was an Egyptian woman a long time ago who had herself crowned Pharaoh. She even insisted on appearing in public with a beard on state occasions. Mrs. Wingate never went quite that far, but the disguise was good enough, anyhow. And then she made such good use of Stephen Elliott’s property. The hotel, and this. She seems to specialize in that sort of operation-like giving me Sammy the Leg’s house. I don’t doubt that if anyone else gets hot on the trail, Elliott is the one who’s going to have the explaining to do.” He gazed at Mrs. Wingate thoughtfully. “Just between ourselves, and since it won’t go any farther, Laura, I wouldn’t mind betting now that Elliott isn’t even in the racket at all.”
A chilly smile lifted the corners of the woman’s mouth.
“Just between ourselves-and since it won’t go any farther, Mr. Templar-you’d win that bet.”
Simon nodded, and watched Big Hazel break the neck of an ampule and begin to fill the syringe.
“In the same vein,” he said, “would it be inquisitive to ask what happens to us after I’ve told you that Lieutenant Kearney knows where we are and is on his way after us?”
Laura Wingate’s fat face gave no visible response.
“An old bluff like that doesn’t frighten me,” she said. “Especially since I shall know the truth in a few minutes. But I’m glad to answer your question. As you may remember, we have a whisky bottle which you were kind enough to open for Big Hazel, I had meant to plant that in Sammy the Leg’s house, to help fix the Cleve Friend killing on you. Now Miss Varing’s interference has made me change my plans. I shall use it somewhere else to prove that you killed your man Uniatz in a quarrel over some stolen jewels-I think I
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