“It’s good to see you, Hank,” he said in a very even tone. “I’m glad you were able to get Max and Nails for yourself. I was afraid—”
“Save your breath Templar,” said the Texan coldly. “Jean’s told me about you already. Now stand up and take it.”
Simon Templar’s lips curled in a faint smile that was almost cynical. He gazed at ironic death with clear blue eyes and found it a little funny.
It was the perfect moment for Don Morland to rush in and clutch Reefe’s right arm and gasp frantically: “No, no! They made him do it to save Jean from being beaten. I heard them.”
“I left as soon as we got back to the house,” Reefe explained. “I started off all right when I got here, but Nails couldn’t ’ve been more than a few minutes behind me. I was doin’ fine when there was a knock on the door an’ one of the men went out. When he came back, he just said a couple of words in German to the others, an’ they all jumped on me at once. Knocked me out cold. When I woke up I was tied to a chair in the kitchen. Took me some time to get loose.”
“Nails fixed me a drink after Hank had gone,” said the girl. “There must have been something in it, because suddenly I felt dizzy and everything started to go black. The next thing I knew, I was here.”
“So,” said the Saint, “I guess this winds up the interlude.”
He had already told them his own story and completed the background for them.
“What do we do now?” asked Reefe.
“You’d better drive into Lion Rock and phone the FBI in Phoenix,” said the Saint. “You can drop Mr Morland and Jean off at the house on your way. I’ll wait here and look after the prisoners till the flying squad arrives, and give them the whole story. They’ll take a few hours to get here.”