Saint Overboard Read Free

checked at that
moment and yet incorrigibly seeking for natural expression, which for one
fleeting instant worked unpardonable magic on his breathing.
    “A bit wet in the water to-night, isn’t
it?” he remarked coolly.
    “Just a little.”
    He pulled open a drawer and selected a couple
of towels. As an afterthought, he detached a bathrobe from its hook and
dropped that also on the couch.
    “D’you prefer brandy or hot
coffee?”
    “Thanks.” The impulse of mischief
in her eyes was only a wraith of itself, masked down by a colder
intentness. “But I think I’d better be getting back—to collect my
bet. It was awfully good of you to—understand so quickly—and—and help me.”
    She held out her hand, in a quick gesture of
final friendliness, with
a smile which ought to have left the Saint gaping dreamily after her until she was lost again in the night.
    “Oh, yes.” Simon took the hand, but
he didn’t complete the action by letting go of it immediately as he
should have done. He put one foot up on the couch and rested his forearm on
his knee; and the
quiet light of amusement that twinkled in his sea- blue eyes was suddenly very gay and disturbing. “Of course, I did hear something about a bet—— ”
    “It—it was rather a stupid one, I
suppose.” She took her hand away, and her voice steadied itself and
became clearer. “We were just talking, about how easy it would be to
get away with any thing on a foggy night, and somehow or other it got
around to my
saying that I could swim to Dinard and back without them finding me. They’d nearly caught me when you pulled
me on board. I don’t know if that was allowed for in the bet, but—— ”
    “And the shooting?”
    Her fine brows came together for a moment.
    “That was just part of the make-believe. We were pretending that I’d come out to rob the   ship—— ”
    “And the shouting?”
    “That was part of it, too. I suppose it
all sounds very idi otic—— ”
    The Saint smiled. He slipped a cigarette out
of a packet on the shelf close by and tapped it.
    “Oh, not a bit. I like these games
myself—they do help to pass away the long evenings. Who did the
shooting?”
    “The man who spoke to you from the
dinghy.”
    “I suppose he didn’t shoot himself by
mistake? It was a most realistic job of yelling.” Simon’s voice
expressed nothing but gentle interest and approval; his smile was
deceptively lazy. And then he left the cigarette in his mouth and
stretched out his hand again. “By the way, that’s a jolly-looking
gadget.”
    There was a curious kind of thick rubber
pouch strapped on the belt of her swim suit, and he had touched it before
she could draw back.
    “It’s just one of those waterproof
carriers for cigarettes and a vanity case. Haven’t you seen them before?”
    “No.” He took his foot down, again
from the couch, rather deliberately. “May I look?”
    The note of casual, politely apologetic
inquisitiveness was perfectly done. They might have been carrying on an idle
con versation on
the beach in broad sunlight; but she stepped back before he could touch the case again.
    “I—I think I’d better be getting back.
Really. The others will be starting to worry about me.”
    He nodded.
    “Perhaps they will,” he admitted.
“But you can’t possibly go swimming about in this mess. You don’t know
what a risk you’re taking.
It’s a hundred to one you’d miss your boat, and it’s cold work splashing around in circles. I’ll run you
back.”
    “Please don’t bother. Honestly, the
water isn’t so cold—— ”
    “But you are.” His smiling eyes
took on the slight shiver of her brown body. “And it’s no
trouble.”
    He passed her with an easy stride, and he was on the compan ion when she caught his arm.
    “Please! Besides, the bet doesn’t—— ”
    “Damn the bet, darling. You’re too
young and good-looking to be washed up stiff on the beach. Besides,
you’ve broken the rules already by coming on board.