The Saint Abroad: The Art Collectors/ the Persistent Patriots (7 page)

It amused Simon to see how quickly a cloud of
practicality
veiled
the sun of LeGrand’s spontaneous enthusiasm.

“Of course,” the dealer said,
“things never bring what
they are worth. And then there is the
interest I must pay on
loans, and the problem of …”

“Later,
monsieur,
later,”
Annabella interrupted good-na
turedly. “We can bargain later . .
.if
you are
interested.
Would you like to see the others?”

“Would I like to see the others!” LeGrand burbled.
“That is the same as asking me if I would like to be twenty-five
again! Show me, please. Show me.”

His next word was
“Incroyable!”
as
with Annabella he
brought the second masterpiece from its one-time hiding
place into
the clear morning light of the room. The ritual
and the exclamations
and ecstatic comments were repeated
until all five of the paintings had
been admired.

“This takes my breath away,” LeGrand
said. “What can
I say?”

“Say—ten million francs?” Annabella
suggested.

LeGrand looked at her stoically.

“We may bargain,
mademoiselle,
but
I do not think we
shall quarrel.”

“Well, shall I leave you to haggle?”
Simon asked. “I’ll
take a stroll in the garden.”

“Whatever you please,
m’sieur,”
LeGrand
said.

“Stay if you like,” Annabella said
simultaneously.

Their responses to his question were entirely
automatic.
Their consciousnesses were almost exclusively focused on
the paintings and the deal to be made, and the Saint felt
about as
much a part of things as the bride’s brother along
on a honeymoon. When he left the room they
were already
so absorbed in financial
discussion that they did not even
notice his departure.

He went out the front door of the house and
sauntered
across the drive to the Mercedes, where Kraus was en
grossed in putting a final
burnish on the mirror-like black
shell.

“Wie geht’s, Hans?”
he
enquired sociably.

“Ganz gut, danke, mein Herr.
And
you?”

The chauffeur straightened his shoulders as
he turned to
answer.
He wiped his moist forehead with the back of the
hand which held the polishing cloth.

“Very well too,” Simon said.

“And there?” Hans Kraus asked in a
quieter voice, with a
tilt of his head toward the house.

He seemed to have become much friendlier to the Saint
now that both the paintings and their owner had
come
through the night unscathed.

“They’re talking price.”

“He won’t cheat her?”

“Hans, you’re an incorrigibly suspicious
man I’m afraid.
LeGrand will drive a hard bargain, but he’s honest.”

The chauffeur’s face became ashamedly apologetic.

“You understand … how could I know
these things?” he
said. “She is only a young woman, with a great responsi
bility, and I cannot be of much help. I worry. I
cannot help it.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry much
longer,” Simon told
him. “Once LeGrand has the paintings and
your
Fr
ä
ulein
has her money, the Lambrini
household can relax indefi
nitely.”

“Will she have it soon?” Kraus
asked. “It is all she has
thought about for months. There has been
almost no sleep
ing.”

“I think she’ll have it soon,” Simon
assured him. “Le
Grand was very impressed.”

“Let us fervently hope so,” Kraus
said.

Simon left him and started to stroll across
the lawn,
wondering
just how long the other parties who had been
showing
such an interest in Annabella’s art hoard were going
to remain inactive. Then Annabella’s own voice
called his
name and he turned back to
the house. She and LeGrand
were
standing at the front door.

“All finished?” the Saint asked as
he rejoined them on
the
steps.

“We have agreed,” the art dealer said. “There is
only for
my colleague to see the paintings
also. He is the only expert
in France whose opinion I respect above my
own. While I,
of course, trust Mademoiselle
Lambrini completely, the
money
involved in this transaction is not all mine, and it is
necessary to have a confirmation of my
judgment.”

Simon glanced at Annabella. She seemed untroubled by
any misgivings, and apparently the price they had
agreed on
pleased her.

“Congratulations to both of you,
then,” he said. “You
won’t be needing me any more. Maybe Monsieur
LeGrand
would be kind enough to give me a ride back into Paris.”

“Oh, but I do need you!” Annabella
exclaimed.

She took his arm as they followed LeGrand to
his car.

“Monsieur LeGrand’s friend just called
to say he has had
car
trouble on the road coming out here,” she said. “I need you for
protection until he comes … and then of course I
shall need you for the celebration.”

The Saint inclined his head gracefully.

“Where celebrations are concerned, my
availability is un
limited.”

“As you like,
monsieur,”
LeGrand
said. “You are welcome
to ride with me.”

“Monsieur Templar will stay with
me,” Annabella insisted.
“You will be coming back to my house with
the professor
in any case, won’t you?”

LeGrand looked at his wrist watch and shook
his head.

“Perhaps not. My wife does not care for
managing my
business very long. I had to leave her in charge while I
drove
out here. But I shall see that Professor Clarneau comes to
see you as quickly as
possible.”

“I must admit that I’m impatient,”
Annabella said.

They walked to LeGrand’s car. He paused to
shake hands
before getting into the driver’s seat.

“It was a pleasure,
mademoiselle,”
he said to Annabella.
“And an honor,
monsieur.”

“It will be an even greater pleasure for me when our deal
is completed,” Annabella said. “What
about delivering the
paintings …
and the money?”

LeGrand laughed as he settled himself and
closed the car
door. He looked up with his elbow on the open window
frame.

“I don’t blame you for being anxious,
mademoiselle.
My
wife is already as anxious for
me
to sell the paintings so that
she can
have a certain fur coat that has monopolized her
dreams for the past
ten months or so.” He made one of his shrugging gestures. “Therefore
our interests are parallel. If
Professor Clarneau approves the paintings—or perhaps I
should say,
when
Professor Clarneau
approves the paintings
—he will be
able to hand you a check on the spot. He is
my partner in this transaction, and the money is in our joint
account, so that you can have your payment
immediately,
without my having to be
around. I shall countersign the
check
when I meet him now, and he can take the paint
ings with him back to Paris in his station wagon. Is that
good enough?”

“Very good,” Annabella said contentedly.

LeGrand winked at her as he started his car’s
engine.

“Of course, you drove such a hard
bargain that Clarneau
may be shocked—but I trust you can charm him
into being
reconciled to the price.”

“Don’t even joke about such
things!” Annabella remon
strated.

LeGrand was about to pull away when Simon
asserted
himself the dialogue for the first time.

“Monsieur LeGrand,” he said
quietly. “Are you certain it
was your friend who telephoned?”

LeGrand took his hand off the gear shift lever
and his
bushy eyebrows suddenly arched to an almost comical ex
treme.

“Of course it was. What do you
mean?”

Annabella gave the Saint a ferocious look
which clearly
said,
Simon, please shut up and don’t rock the boat!,
but
he
went ahead in spite of it.

“I mean that these characters who’ve been so busy trying
to swipe Mademoiselle Lambrini’s worldly
goods—not to
mention Mademoiselle
Lambrini—might just have decided to
try
another angle.”

Annabella’s beautiful red lips were
compressed with exas
peration, and LeGrand looked more impatient
than worried.

“What angle?” he asked. “What
would they have to do with Paul Clarneau? Are you suggesting that he
…
No.
That is impossible. He has been
my friend since we were
boys!”

“I’m not suggesting anything—and
certainly not that your chum Clarneau is a crook. I’m just wondering whether or
not
somebody might be using him as bait for a trap that you’re
about to
drive right into.”

LeGrand gave a nasal snorting laugh and shook his head
as he put the car in gear.

“Apparently you read too many crime
stories, Monsieur
Templar—or live too many. You can’t believe an ordinary
automobile
breakdown when you hear about one.” He
gunned the engine, then looked at the
Saint again sardon
ically. “Of course
if you would like to come along to protect
me, or to protect Mademoiselle Lambrini’s interests …”

Annabella firmly caught Simon’s arm and held
him close
beside her.

“He can protect my interests quite well
enough by staying
here,” she said. “Just hurry, please, and send
your friend
along as soon as possible.”

“A
votre service!”
LeGrand
said, with mock humility.
His car’s wheels threw up gravel. “And
don’t let Monsieur Templar dream up any ghosts to steal our paintings before
Clarneau
comes to take them!”

6

Twenty-five minutes after Marcel LeGrand had
driven away,
an American station wagon of venerable vintage crunched
up the
drive and stopped at the front door. Simon and
Annabella went
outside, and the driver of the car all but
ran to meet them. He
was a small elderly man, but powerfully
knobby, with the
look of one who ate little and trotted two miles every day before breakfast.

“I am so sorry, mademoiselle,
monsieur!” he cried. “The
gods would of course do such a thing
to me on this day!”

Simon shook his hand and Annabella protested
that auto
mobile trouble was nobody’s fault.

“She is old but usually
dependable,” the man said. “In
my work I need the
space for carrying paintings and statues
from place to
place.” He suddenly stopped himself. “But
I have not even
introduced myself! I am Professor Paul
Clarneau.”

“We guessed,” the Saint said.

“Do come in,” Annabella Lambrini
urged him. “The paint
ings are only a few minutes older, after
all.”

“Of course!”

Simon followed them into the front room and
watched as
Clarneau went into similar ecstacies to those of LeGrand.

“I assure you they are genuine,”
Annabella said. “But
you are welcome to make whatever tests you
have to do in
order to check.”

“I would not for a moment doubt your
word,” Professor
Clarneau replied gallantly. “If you
don’t mind, though, I
shall look more closely …”

He waited with eyebrows raised, until
Annabella had
given him her go-ahead. Then, blinking rapidly, as if the
blink were an essential part of
his investigatory technique,
the little man
began to crawl around on the floor peering at
parts of the canvases through
a magnifying glass, studying
the surface of
the paint at various angles, and inspecting
the backs of the frames. After a few minutes, during which
Annabella was speechless with suspense, he
scrambled back
to his feet.