Follow the Saint (Simon Templar 'The Saint', Book 20)
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Three more classic adventures for the Saint in which he discovers some truly miraculous tea, agrees to meet a woman with some information on a major swindle—but finds her dead—and, in the last story, decides to take the self-appointed guardian of the nation’s morality down a peg or two, only to end up in the aftermath of a bank robbery…
brought him there. It was on a plain sheet of good notepaper, with no address. Dear Saint, I’m not going to write a long letter, because if you aren’t going to believe me it won’t make any difference how many pages I write. I’m only writing to you at all because I’m utterly desperate. How can I put it in the baldest possible way? I’m being forced into making myself an accomplice in one of the most gigantic frauds that can ever have been attempted, and I can’t go to the police for the same
he’d got a plan worked out. He’d just finished talking it over with his accomplice—” “Accomplice?” repeated the doctor. “Yes,” said the Saint flatly. “And just to make sure we understand each other, I’m referring to a phoney medico who goes under the name of Quintus.” The doctor’s face went white, and his hands whitened on the arms of his chair, but the Saint didn’t stir. “I wouldn’t try it,” he said. “I wouldn’t try anything, brother, if I were you. Because if you do, I shall smash you into
chair, imperturbably relaxed, in the attitude in which he had stayed even when Tamblin entered the room. “Because it’s your turn to be taking too much for granted. You thought my cleverness had run away with me, and so you stopped thinking. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to you that since I expected you to come in, I may have expected just how sociable your ideas would be when you got here. You heard me give Jeeves a gun, and so you’ve jumped to the conclusion that I’m unarmed. Now will you
off your chest, would it be frightfully tactless if I asked you what I’m supposed to have done?” “Last night,” Teal said, grinding his words out under fearful compression, “a Mr Robert Verdean, the manager of the City and Continental Bank’s branch at Staines, was visited at his home in Chertsey by two men. They tied up his servant in the kitchen, and went on to find him in the living-room. The maid’s description of them makes them sound like the two men who held up the same bank that morning.
the tail end of Prohibition, and times were tough at first. Despite sales to The American Magazine and others, it wasn’t until a chance meeting with writer turned Hollywood executive Bartlett McCormack in their favourite speakeasy that Charteris’s career stepped up a gear. Soon Charteris was in Hollywood, working on what would become the 1933 movie Midnight Club. However, Hollywood’s treatment of writers wasn’t to Charteris’s taste, and he began to yearn for home. Within a few months, he