"Now, boys, you can line yourselves up against that wall over there," he said with an indicative flick of his gun muzzle. "And don't forget where you are… Pat, you take this heater and stand well to the side. Here's the torch, too, and keep the light nicely steady… It will interest you birds to know," he added for the benefit of the obedient trio, "that the lady can hit a microbe's eye at fifty yards. If you don't believe me, you only have to bring on your microbes."
He took Mr Gump's gun from Patricia and picked up Ferret Eyes' weapon from the floor; then he swiftly examined both and thrust them into his pocket. From another pocket he produced a second automatic of his own. He never trusted strange weapons. Holding his gun with careless ease, he briefly inspected the taxi driver and Ferret Eyes; he was not particularly interested in either of them since they definitely came within the dull category of small fry. Mr Gump, however, was probably very close to the Z-Man. Mr Gump needed careful investigation. He looked very meek and inoffensive as the Saint started going through his pockets — except perhaps for the snakelike glitter in his eyes behind the gold-rimmed pince-nez — a glitter which belied the disarming weakness of his chin.
And suddenly Mr Gump gave a demonstration which proved him to be either a very rash fool or a very brave man. As Simon Templar was in the act of insinuating a brown hand into Mr Gump's breast pocket a knee shot up and dug itself into the lower region of his stomach. With a simultaneous cohesion of movement Mr Gump grabbed at the Saint's gun and tore it out of Simon's relaxed fingers. In another instant the muzzle was jammed hard against Simon's chest with Mr Gump's finger on the trigger.
"Drop that gun, Miss Holm, or your friend becomes an angel instead of a Saint," said Mr Gump.
Patricia made no movement. Nobody made any movement. And the Saint chuckled.
"That was careless of me, brother — but not so careless as you think," he murmured. "That gun's the one I didn't load."
He raised his hand almost casually and took hold of Mr Gump's small nose. He gripped it very hard between his finger and thumb and twisted it.
Click!
Mr Gump pulled the trigger in a flurry of blind fury and extreme anguish. And that empty click! was the only result. He pulled again, and nothing happened. Nothing, that is, except that the agonizing torque on his sensitive nose increased. He let out a strangled squeal and dropped his useless weapon; and at the same time the Saint released his grip.
"I told you it wasn't loaded," said the Saint, picking up the automatic by the trigger guard and dropping it into his pocket. "I think I'd better use your gun, Andy. But don't try any more tricks like that, or I might really have to hurt you."