to know. This is the end of my career as a policeman. I never thought
the hell of a lot of the job, anyhow. I suppose
you’re wondering why?”
She nodded.
“I suppose I
am.”
“Well, I butted into
this party more or less by way of a joke. A joke and a promise, Jill,
which I may tell you about one day. Or
maybe I won’t. Whether you were right or
wrong had nothing to do with it at all; but from what the late lamented
Weald was saying when I crashed his sheik
stuff it seems you’re right, and that really has got something to do with the flowers that bloom in the spring.”
There was another silence.
She accepted a cigarette from his case, and a
light.
Presently she said:
“And after we leave the train?”
“Somewhere in this
wide world,” said the Saint, “there’s a
bloke by the name of Essenden. He is going to Paris to-morrow,
and so are we.”
Chapter V
HOW LORD ESSENDEN
WAS PEEVED,
AND SIMON
TEMPLAR RECEIVED A VISITOR
Now, once upon a time
Lord Essenden had fired a revol ver at Simon Templar with
intent to qualify him for a pair of wings and a white
nightie. Simon bore Lord Essen den no malice for that,
for the Saint was a philosopher, and he was philosophically
ready to admit that on that occasion he. had been in
the act of forcing open Lord Essenden’s desk with a
burglarious instrument, to wit, a jemmy; so that Lord
Essenden might philosophically be held to have been
within his rights. Besides, the bul let had missed him
by a yard.
No, Simon Templar’s
interest in Essenden, and particularly in Essenden’s trips to Paris, had
always been com monplace and practical. Simon, having
once upon a time watched and pried into Lord Essenden’s
affairs conscientiously and devotedly for some months, knew that Essen den, on his return from every visit he paid to Paris (and these visits were more frequent than the visits of a respec tably married peer should rightly have been), was wont to pay large numbers of French francs into his bank in London. And the Saint, who had been younger than he was at this time, knew that Englishmen who are able to pay large numbers of French francs into their London banks when they return from a short visit to Paris are curiosities; and collecting curiosities was the Saint’s vocation.
So Simon Templar and Jill
Trelawney went to Paris and stayed two days at the
Crillon in the Place de la Concorde, which they chose
because Lord Essenden chose it. Also, during
those two days the Saint held no conversation with Lord Essenden beyond once
begging his pardon for treading on his toes in the lift.
It was during the
forty-ninth hour of their residence at the
Crillon that Simon learnt that Essenden was leaving by
the early train next morning.
His room was on the same floor
as Essenden’s. He re tired to it when Essenden
retired, bidding the peer an affa ble good-night in
the corridor, for that night the Saint had
met Essenden in the bar and relaxed his aloofness. In
fact, they had drunk whisky together. This without any
reference to their previous encounter. On that occa sion
the Saint had been masked; and now, meeting Es senden
in more propitious circumstances, he had no wish to
rake up a stale quarrel.
So they drank whisky
together, which was a dangerous thing for anyone to do with
Simon Templar; and retired at the same hour. Simon
undressed, put on pajamas and a dressing gown, gave
Essenden an hour and a half in which to feel the full
and final benefit of the whisky. Then he sauntered down
the corridor to Essenden’s room, knocked, received no
answer, sauntered in, and found the peer sleeping
peacefully. Essenden had not even troubled to undress. The Saint
regarded him sadly, covered him tenderly
with the quilt, and went out again some minutes later, closing the door behind him.
And that was really all
that happened on that trip to Paris which is of
importance for the purposes of this chronicle; for, on
the next day Lord Essenden duly went back to London, and he went with
the hell of a lot of the job, anyhow. I suppose
you’re wondering why?”
She nodded.
“I suppose I
am.”
“Well, I butted into
this party more or less by way of a joke. A joke and a promise, Jill,
which I may tell you about one day. Or
maybe I won’t. Whether you were right or
wrong had nothing to do with it at all; but from what the late lamented
Weald was saying when I crashed his sheik
stuff it seems you’re right, and that really has got something to do with the flowers that bloom in the spring.”
There was another silence.
She accepted a cigarette from his case, and a
light.
Presently she said:
“And after we leave the train?”
“Somewhere in this
wide world,” said the Saint, “there’s a
bloke by the name of Essenden. He is going to Paris to-morrow,
and so are we.”
Chapter V
HOW LORD ESSENDEN
WAS PEEVED,
AND SIMON
TEMPLAR RECEIVED A VISITOR
Now, once upon a time
Lord Essenden had fired a revol ver at Simon Templar with
intent to qualify him for a pair of wings and a white
nightie. Simon bore Lord Essen den no malice for that,
for the Saint was a philosopher, and he was philosophically
ready to admit that on that occasion he. had been in
the act of forcing open Lord Essenden’s desk with a
burglarious instrument, to wit, a jemmy; so that Lord
Essenden might philosophically be held to have been
within his rights. Besides, the bul let had missed him
by a yard.
No, Simon Templar’s
interest in Essenden, and particularly in Essenden’s trips to Paris, had
always been com monplace and practical. Simon, having
once upon a time watched and pried into Lord Essenden’s
affairs conscientiously and devotedly for some months, knew that Essen den, on his return from every visit he paid to Paris (and these visits were more frequent than the visits of a respec tably married peer should rightly have been), was wont to pay large numbers of French francs into his bank in London. And the Saint, who had been younger than he was at this time, knew that Englishmen who are able to pay large numbers of French francs into their London banks when they return from a short visit to Paris are curiosities; and collecting curiosities was the Saint’s vocation.
So Simon Templar and Jill
Trelawney went to Paris and stayed two days at the
Crillon in the Place de la Concorde, which they chose
because Lord Essenden chose it. Also, during
those two days the Saint held no conversation with Lord Essenden beyond once
begging his pardon for treading on his toes in the lift.
It was during the
forty-ninth hour of their residence at the
Crillon that Simon learnt that Essenden was leaving by
the early train next morning.
His room was on the same floor
as Essenden’s. He re tired to it when Essenden
retired, bidding the peer an affa ble good-night in
the corridor, for that night the Saint had
met Essenden in the bar and relaxed his aloofness. In
fact, they had drunk whisky together. This without any
reference to their previous encounter. On that occa sion
the Saint had been masked; and now, meeting Es senden
in more propitious circumstances, he had no wish to
rake up a stale quarrel.
So they drank whisky
together, which was a dangerous thing for anyone to do with
Simon Templar; and retired at the same hour. Simon
undressed, put on pajamas and a dressing gown, gave
Essenden an hour and a half in which to feel the full
and final benefit of the whisky. Then he sauntered down
the corridor to Essenden’s room, knocked, received no
answer, sauntered in, and found the peer sleeping
peacefully. Essenden had not even troubled to undress. The Saint
regarded him sadly, covered him tenderly
with the quilt, and went out again some minutes later, closing the door behind him.
And that was really all
that happened on that trip to Paris which is of
importance for the purposes of this chronicle; for, on
the next day Lord Essenden duly went back to London, and he went with
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