The Saint took one step, and jumped on the man’s chest with both feet. It sounded as if something cracked, but Simon didn’t wait to be sure. He grabbed the Tommy gun out of the man’s limp grasp and pounded the butt on the man’s head several times, until he was quite sure that Party Member Neumann would take no further active part in the festivities that night, if ever.
Simon went back to the station wagon and switched out the lights. The episode had not been entirely silent, but it seemed to have attracted no attention. There were no sounds of interest anywhere. The lighted window in the ranch house was still lighted, but the shades had been drawn and nobody had looked out. The Saint thought that he saw the silhouette of Max Valmon pass across it, as if pacing up and down, but he could not be sure.
He headed towards the outer buildings from which Don Morland had been brought. Chinks of light showed there from between the crevices of closed shutters. He had no way of guessing how many demobilised Bundsmen there would be inside, but he had an idea that there would be several. But he had the grips of the Tommy gun in his hands now, and the exact number was not too important.
Actually, there were nine. They looked up with the blank faces of frozen fish when he threw open the door. Three of them were lying on the cots which were ranged along both sides of the big barrack-like dormitory; the other six were apparently having some quiet fun for themselves with Don Morland, who was tied to a chair in the centre of the room.
The Saint’s forefinger was feather-light on the trigger of his machine gun.
“I’m sorry to interrupt a happy cultural evening, boys,” he said affectionately, “but this is round-up time. Two of you can untie Mr Morland. The rest of you will please move to the back of the room with your hands high in the air. You may try any tricks you like, but I must tell you that nothing would amuse me more than blowing large holes in your dinners.”
None of them, it seemed, felt overly ambitious. They herded sullenly towards the back of the room, to be joined in another few moments by the two who had stayed behind to untie Morland.
The old man half fell out of the chair, and then pulled himself up and limped towards the Saint.
Simon waved him to one side, out of the line of fire.
“Have you been around long enough to know any good place where we can lock them up?” he asked.