The Saint Returns Read Online Free Page A

what was becoming an
habit ual gesture.
    “I’m frightened to go out,” she
said. “What if they …”
    “No need to be frightened while I’m about,” Kelly
as sured her, displaying a fist big enough
to crack the Blarney stone. “Simon an’ me have handled worse than a couple o’ second-hand supermen.”
    “And we don’t even need to leave the
hotel,” Simon said. “The Grill here is as good as anyplace in
town.”
    As they were leaving the bar, Kelly stopped,
tucked in his chin, and stared down at Mildred.
    “But only imagine,” he said,
“a tiny thing like this going to conquer the world!”
     
    3
     
    Simon placed his fork on the platter which
minutes before had
been heaped with the delectable cadavers of Dublin
Bay prawns, looked contentedly around at the elegant red and black decor of the
Gresham Grill, and finally let his
gaze come to rest on Mildred, who avoided a direct meeting with its intensity by chasing a last bit of lettuce across the salad plate. Kelly was still
engaged in demolishing a double-cut
steak done to dry death in the manner
admired by true Gaelic countrymen.
    “Mildred,” said the Saint
thoughtfully, “what are we going to do about you?”
    She shrugged uncomfortably.
    “Idon’t know. But I think I must
get out of Dublin— and out of the country. I’ll hide someplace where they’ll never find me.” Her eyes grew brighter as inspiration began to
flow again. “I once read a story about a girl who disguised herself as a boy and signed
on a ship and nobody found out for months.
I’ll take a schooner to the South
Seas, and then I’ll…”
    Kelly looked at her figure appreciatively as he mopped his mouth with a napkin.
    “I’m afraid ye’d never get away with that
disguise for more than an hour.”
    “No,” said Simon. “I’m sure
there must be a better way. Are you sure you’ve told us all the facts,
exactly as they are?”
    She looked him in the eye.
    “As incredible as it sounds, it’s all
the gospel truth.”
    “And I don’t suppose you know anybody
who can help you?” the Saint said.
    “Not a soul. Only you—and I’ve given you too much trouble already—and put you in danger.”
    She closed her eyes and tears appeared on her
long brown lashes. The Saint and Kelly exchanged unbeliev ing but
concerned glances.
    “Simon,” said the Irishman,
“shure and to let her go now would be like castin’ out a kitten in a
snowstorm.” He pushed back his chair and gave the table a decisive thump with
a meaty paw. “If talk were cloth a man might have the makin’s of an overcoat— An
ould soldier like me can’t stand such a
quantity of speech without no action.
Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll take her out to my place. It’s so far from anything, God Himself couldn’t find it with a guidebook. There she’ll be safe,
and Simon and me won’t mind havin’ a
nice little girl about the house to
make things cozy when we come in from fishin’ all day.” He looked at
Mildred. “Me dear wife’s down in Cork
visitin’ her mother, and I’m like a lost soul, with dirty dishes pilin’ clear up to the rafters.”
    The Saint watched Mildred’s reactions to that
speech and saw that she was delighted with the idea—though her eager
expression wilted a little at the mention of dirty dishes.
    “Well, Pat,” he said, “I
couldn’t have thought of a bet ter plan myself. If this poor misguided child
honestly prefers
us to the SS, she’s welcome to come along. Maybe a little fresh country air will clear our heads and give us some good
ideas for the next step.”
    Mildred was ecstatic.
    “You really don’t mind?” she said excitedly.
“You’ll let me come?”
    Simon nodded.
    “And I think the sooner we get on our
way the better. It’s
just possible those guardians of yours recognized my face and could trace us here.”
    She gave him a puzzled look.
    “Why should they recognize your
face?”
    Her ignorance offended Kelly’s pride of
friendship.
    “Good