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.A few inches in front of his left foot, the open door of the saloon stencilledan elongated panel of light across the cockpit.The ache eased out of hiscramped leg muscles as he gently completed his interrupted movements andfinished the transfer of his weight down on to his extended toes.And as bothhis feet ar-rived on the same deck he heard a low gasping moan.Page 65ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe touched the gun on his hip; but that might be too noisy.His left hand wasstill grasping the stanchion by which he had been letting himself down, andwith a silent twist he slipped it out of its socket.Then he took a longbreath and stepped out across the door of the saloon, squarely into the light.He looked down the companion into a room through which a young cyclone seemedto have passed.The bunks had been opened and the bedding taken apart; lockershad been forced open and their contents scattered on the floor; books had beentaken from their shelves and thrown down anywhere.The carpet had been rippedup and rolled back, and a section of panelling had been torn bodily away fromthe bulkhead.The Saint saw all this at once, as he would have taken in thebroad features of any background; but his gaze was fixed on the crumpled shapeof a man who lay on the floor -who was trying, with set teeth andpain-wrinkled face, to drag himself up on to his hands and knees.The manwhose hiss of convulsive breathing had shocked him out of his sleep-walking aminute ago.Orace.Simon put a hand on the rail of the companion and dropped into the saloon.Heleft his stanchion on the floor and hoisted Orace up on to one of thedisordered couches."What's the matter?"Orace's fierce eyes stared at him brightly, while he clutched his chest withone rough hand; and Simon saw that the breast of his shirt was red with blood.The man's voice came with a hoarse effort."Ain't nothink.Look out.""Well, let's have a look at you, old son  "The other pushed him away with a sudden access of strength.Orace's head wasturned towards the half-closed door at the forward end of the saloon, and hisjaw was clamped up under the pelmet of his moustache with the same savagedoggedness that had been carved into it when Simon had seen him making thatheroic fight to get himself up from the floor.And at the same moment, beyondthe communicating door, Simon heard the faint click of a latch and the creakof a board under a stealthy foot.A slight dreamy smile edged itself on to the Saint's mouth as he stooped inswift silence to recover his stanchion.Clubbed in his left hand, aneighteen-inch length of slender iron, it formed a weapon that was capable ofimpressing the toughest skull with a sense of painful inferiority; and thethought that the sportsman who had turned his cabin upside down and done anunascer-tained amount of damage to Orace was still on board, and might comewithin reach of a shrewd smack on the side of the head, brought a comfortingwarmth of grim contentment into his veins."Steady, me lad.We must get this coat off to see what the trouble is.Inever thought you'd go and hit the bottle di-rectly I was out of sight, Orace.And I suppose the cap blew off the ginger ale when you weren't looking.There we are.Now if we just change the cut of this beautiful shirt of yours."He burbled on, as if he were still attending to the patient, while he pickedhis way soundlessly over the littered floor.His eyes were fixed on the doorinto the galley, and they were not smiling.And then he stopped.He stopped because the half-open door had suddenly jerked wide open.Beyondit, the further end of the alleyway was in darkness; but in the shadowy spacebetween the light of the saloon and the darkness beyond he could see the blackconfiguration of a man, and the gun in the man's hand was held well forward sothat the light of the saloon laid dull bluish gleams along the barrel."Don't come any closer," said the shadow.The Saint relaxed slowly, rising from the slight crouch to which his cautiousadvance had unconsciously reduced him.The man facing him seemed to be ofmedium height, square and thickset; his voice had a throaty accent which wasunfamiliar."Hullo, old cockroach." Simon greeted him in the gentlest of drawls, with thestanchion swinging loosely and rather speculatively in his hand."Come in andPage 66ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlmake yourself at home.Oh, but you have.Never mind.There's still some of thebulkhead you haven't pulled to pieces  ""I'll finish that in a minute.Turn round.""You're sure you haven't any designs on me?""Turn round!"The Saint turned with a shrug."I suppose you know what'll happen if your hand shakes with that gun of yours,brother," he remarked."You might have an accident and hit me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]