A revolver flashed in his hand; and the Saint stopped four paces from him.
"For your own sake, Dr. Sardon," he said, "stand away from that door."
The doctor leered at him crookedly.
"You would like to burn my ants," he whispered.
He turned and fumbled with the spring catch, his revolver swinging carelessly wide from its aim; and the door had started to move when Simon shot him twice through the heart.
Simon was stretched out on the veranda, sipping a highball and sniping mosquitoes with a cigarette end, when Nordsten came up the steps from his car. The Saint looked up with a smile.
"My dear fellow," said Nordsten, "I thought you would be at the fire."
"Is there a fire?" Simon asked innocently.
"Didn't you know? Sardon's whole laboratory has gone up in flames. I heard about it at the club, and when I left I Dr.ove back that way thinking I should meet you. Sardon and his niece were not there, either. It will be a terrible shock for him when he hears of it. The place was absolutely gutted — I've never seen such a blaze. It might have been soaked in gasoline. It was still too hot to go near, but I suppose all his work has been destroyed. Did you miss Carmen?"
The Saint pointed over his shoulder.