Señor Saint by Leslie Charteris

as there was such an obviously plot-conscious genius at work. Inevitably the thread would have been brought back to him even if he had done nothing but sit and wait for it.
    But underneath his coolly interested repose he was as wary as if he had been closeted with a coy young tigress. Perhaps everything would remain cosy and kitteny; but he had no illusions about the basic hazards of the situation.
    “It’s nice to feel that our hearts are so in tune,” he remarked. “I was determined to find you again, regardless of cost. You were a little thriftier about it, but no less determined. And so we meet. Fate failed to keep us apart, and at this moment is probably gnashing the few teeth it can have left. However, there’s still one small point. I had plenty of opportunities to hear your name. But how did you know mine?”
    “I recognized you, Mr. Templar-as I think you knew.”
    “We haven’t met before.”
    “No.”
    “So you’ve seen my picture and read about me.”
    “Right. And now it’s time you let me ask a question. Why were you so anxious to find me?”
    Simon considered his reply.
    “Any mirror would tell you better than I can. But let’s say that when I first saw you alone, I was hoping you’d stay that way for long enough for us to get acquainted. I was sort of tied up at the moment, if you remember. Then, when your husband showed up, I could see you were much too good for him. After thinking it over, I decided that he’s the dull type that it’s almost a public duty to cuckold. I was planning to find out if you agreed.”
    Her eyes widened a fraction but did not blink. They were a darker blue than his own, and there were smoky shadows in their depths. Blue is conventionally a cool color, but he realized that her shade could have the heat potential of a blowtorch flame.
    “You don’t try very hard to be subtle, do you?” she said, and said it without any indignation.
    “Not always. Especially when a gal seems to have similar ideas of her own. You didn’t track me down just to ask for my autograph, did you?”
    “No. My turn again. What do you know about the Enriquez brothers?”
    “That they’re big tycoons down here, and tough babies. That they’ve specialized in robbing the Mexican public through government contracts obtained by graft and corruption. That they were recently investigated and exposed by the present administration, and are temporarily out of business and facing a possible rest period in the hoosegow. That they would therefore like to see a fast change in the regime. That they are backing a fast-changer named Jose Jalisco, who has the necessary wind to rouse the rabble, and would love to buy some toys that go bang for his followers. That this makes them ideal customers for a homeless shipload of arms and ammunition.”
    “You seem to have found out a lot.”
    “It was poured into my ear, on what I believe to be excellent authority. Shouldn’t that make it my turn next? Why were you looking for me, if it wasn’t just to tell me how wonderful you think I am?”
    “I wanted to ask how you felt about that gun deal.”
    The Saint grinned.
    “That’s a neat reverse,” he said appreciatively.
    “Well?”
    She was not smiling. The dusky warmth in her eyes was stilled and held back, perhaps like a force in reserve.
    Simon gazed at her directly for several seconds while he made a decision. He snubbed out his cigarette gently in an ashtray. .
    “I don’t like it,” he answered.
    “Do you really care whether they have one more revolution here?”
    “Yes, I do,” he said. “It may be rather dreamy and sentimental of me, but I care. If I thought it had a chance of doing some good, I might feel differently. But I know about this one. Its only real objective would be to get a couple of top-flight grafters off the hook and put them back in business. To achieve that, a lot of wretched citizens and stooges would be killed and maimed, and thousands more would be made even more