Prelude for War Read Online Free Page B

the
threshold of something which his inborn flair for the strange
twists of adventure was physically incapable of leaving
unexplored. And an electric ripple of sheer delight brought
every fibre of his being to ecstatic life. His interlude of peace was over.
    “Really,” he
affirmed flatly.
    “Then perhaps you
were even luckier than you realize,” said
the square man smoothly. If he meant to give the words any
extra significance, he did it so subtly that there was no single syllable on which an accusation could have been pinned. In point
of time it had only lasted for a moment, that
silent and apparently unimportant exchange of glances; and
after it there was nothing to show that a challenge had been thrown
down and taken up. “If we can offer you what hospitality we have left—I’m sure Mr Fairweather—— ”
    The Saint shook his head.
    “Thanks,” he
said, “but I haven’t got far to go, and I’ve got
a suitcase in the car.”
    “Then I hope we shall
be seeing more of you.” The square man turned. “I
suppose we should get along to the lodge, Sir Robert.
We can’t be any more use here.”
    “Harrumph,” said
the general. “Er—yes. A splendid effort, young man.
Splendid. Ought to have a medal. Harrumph.”
    He allowed himself to be
led away, rumbling.
    Mr Fairweather grasped the
Saint’s hand and pumped it vigorously up and down.
He had recovered what must have been his normal
tremendous dignity, and now he was also able to make
himself heard.
    “I shall take personal
steps,” he announced majestically, “to
see that your heroism is suitably recognized.”
    He stalked off after the
others, without stopping to inquire the Saint’s name
and address.
    Clanging importantly, the
first fire engine swept up the gravel drive and came to a
standstill in front of the terrace.
    4
    “I’m glad they got
here in time to water the flowers,” Simon
observed rather bitterly.
    He was wondering how much
difference it might have made if they had arrived
early enough to get a ladder to the window of that locked
room. But the nearest town of any size was Anford, about seven miles away,
and the possi bility that they could have
arrived much sooner was purely theoretical.
From the moment a fire like that took hold the house was inevitably doomed.
    The policeman who had been
holding his arm had moved off during the
conversation, and the other spectators were simply
standing around and gaping in the dumb bovine way in
which spectators of catastrophes usually stand and gape.
    Simon touched Patricia’s
arm.
    “We might as well be
floating along,” he said. “The excitement seems to be over, and it’s
past our bedtime.”
    They had got halfway to
the car when the police sergeant overtook them.           
    “Excuse me,
sir.”
    “You are
forgiven,” said the Saint liberally. “What have you done?”
    “How did you happen to
be here, sir?”
    “Me ? I just happened
to see the fire from the main road, so I beetled over
to have a look at it.”
    “I see.” The
sergeant wrote busily in his notebook. “Any thing
else, sir?”
    The Saint’s hesitation was
imperceptible. Undoubtedly there had been various
things else; but it would have been very complicated to
go into them. And when Simon Tem plar had got the scent of
mystery in his nostrils, the last thing he wanted was to have the police blundering
along the same keen trail—at least not before he had given a good deal of thought to the pros and cons.
    “No,” he said
innocently. “Except that this bloke Kennet seemed
to be still in the house, so I just had a dart at fish ing
him out. He wouldn’t be any relation of the M.P. by any
chance, would he?”
    “His son, I believe,
sir, from what I’ve heard in the vil lage. Staying with
Mr Fairweather for the week end. He must have been
suffocated in his sleep, pore devil—let’s hope
‘e was, anyway. It ‘ll cause a bit of a stir, all right.”
    “I shouldn’t be
surprised,” said the Saint