Enter the Saint Read Free Page B

him. He allowed the Snake to brood blackly over the memory for a few moments.
    “He wasn’t an amateur,” said Ganning. “But none of us could place him. I’d give the hell of a lot to find out who he was. One of these fly mobsmen you read about, I shouldn’t wonder. He’d got all the dope. Look at this,” said the Snake, producing the envelope. “He shoved that at Ted when he got out. Said it was his receipt. I tried to get Teal to take it up-he was at the station-but he wouldn’t take it seriously.”
    Hayn slipped the sheet of paper out of the envelope and spread it out on his desk. Probably he had not fully grasped the purport of Ganning’s description, for the effect the sight had on him was amazing. If Ganning had been disappointed with Inspector Teal’s unemotional reception of the Saint’s recept, he was fully compensated by the reaction of Mr. Edgar Hayn. Hayn’s pink face suddenly turned white, and he jerked away from the paper that lay on the blotter in front of him as if it had spat poison at him.
    “What’s it mean to you, boss?” asked the bewildered Ganning.
    “This morning we got a consignment over from Germany,” Hayn said, speaking almost in a whisper. “When Braddon opened the case, there was the same picture on top of the packing. We couldn’t figure out how it came there.”
    “Have you looked the stuff over yet?” demanded the Snake, instantly alert.
    Hayn shook his head. He was still staring, as though hypnotized, at the scrap of paper. “We didn’t think anything of it. There’s never been a hitch yet. Braddon thought the men who packed the case must have been playing some game. We just put the marked jars away in the usual place.”
    “You haven’t had to touch them yet?”
    Hayn made a negative gesture. He reached out a shaky hand for the telephone, while Ganning sat silently chewing over the startling possibilities that were revealed by this information. “Hullo… . Regent nine double-o four seven … please.” Hayn fidgeted nervously as he waited for the call to be put through. It came after what seemed an eternity. “Hullo… . That you, Braddon? … I want you to get out the marked jars that came over in the case with the paper in-you remember?… Never mind why!” A minute ticked away, while Hayn kept the receiver glued to his ear and tapped out an impatient tattoo on the desk.
    “Yes? … What’s that? … How d’you know? … I see. Well, I’ll be right round!”
    Hayn clicked the receiver back and slewed his swivel-chair round so that he faced Snake Ganning.
    “What’s he say?” asked the Snake.
    “There’s just a tin of Keating’s powder in each,” Hayn replied. “I asked him how he knew what it was, and he said the whole tin was there, label and all, packed in with cotton wool to make it fit. There was ten thousand pounds’ worth of snow in that shipping, and this guy has lifted the lot!”
    Chapter IV
“YOU MAY DECANT some beer, son,” said Simon Templar, stretched out in an armchair. “And then you may start right in and tell me the story of your life. I can spare you about two minutes.”
    Jerry Stannard traveled obediently over to a side table where bottles and glasses were already set out, accomplished his task with a practised hand, and traveled back again with the results.
    “Your health,” said the Saint, and two foaming glasses were half-emptied in an appreciative silence.
    Stannard was then encouraged to proceed. He put down his glass with a sigh and settled back at his ease, while the Saint made a long arm for the cigarette box. “I can’t make out yet why you should have interested yourself in me,” said Stannard.
    “That’s my affair,” said the Saint bluntly. “And if it comes to that, son, I’m not a philanthropic institution. I happen to want an assistant, and I propose to make use of you. Not that you won’t get anything out of it. I’m sufficiently interested in you to want to help you, but you’re going to pay