Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Ex library (discard) with usual stamps and stickers, protected by clear plastic cover. An acceptable reading copy. Some creasing to spine and covers, pages tanned.
Simon Templar stood up, unfolding his length inch by inch. He felt for the packet of cigarettes in his shirt pocket. He drew out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. He stroked his lighter and put it to the cigarette. He exhaled a thin jet of smoke and put the lighter back in his pocket. All his movements were extremely slow and careful, as if he had been balancing on a tightrope over a whirling void. They had to be, while he waited for his fragmented coordinates to settle down, like a
you at the garage. Then he will drive you where you want to go for the rest of the day. Don’t pay him anything—it is all taken care of.” He bowed, and left her before she could think of anything to say. The next morning, however, she recognized his voice when it spoke on the house telephone again. “Please don’t be annoyed that I have brought your car back myself,” he said. “I only wish to be sure that you are completely satisfied with the repair before I pay the garage.” The fender had been
diversion. They were sitting in the bar of what unschooled tourists will always call, redundantly, “The El Panamá”—at that time the newest and most luxurious (and most expensive) hotel in the Republic. Built and operated by Americans for Americans, it was the counterpart of fifty kindred air-conditioned caravanserais which had raised their uniformly modernistic façades of glass and concrete and aluminium during that generation amid every conceivable skyline from mud huts to minarets and Spanish
dump several sackfuls of carefully salted rock, the plane and the gas had been unwittingly supplied by Uncle Sam, and the trip had been purely a joyride. The Nestors, he thought, should be taught a lesson to be more circumspect about working a routine with so many transparent fabrications in it, but they had certainly put on a first-class production, and the Saint did not want to be too cruel. PUBLICATION HISTORY As with other Saint books from this era the stories in this book first
gave a kind of short two-toned grunt that might have been meant for a laugh. “How much did she tell you about all this?” “As much as she knows, I think.” “I can figure what else she thinks. And what everybody else thinks. But you know as much now as I knew when I came down here with Tiltman. That’s the truth, so help me.” “I hope you’ll tell me the rest.” Yarn sipped his drink, and put it down without a grimace, as if he was completely inured to the vile taste. “We flew down here from