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"It was done by one of the best men in the business," Graner said
complacently. "But we are hoping that you will be able to equal it."
He put the tray back again and took out a wooden box from the bottom of the
safe. It held twenty or thirty diamonds, none of which could have weighed less
than ten carats, and all of them perfectly matched.
"These are to be altered," he said. "It is a pity to have to break them up,
but they belonged to a set which was once rather well-known."
He handed the box to the Saint, and Simon took it over to the workbench and
put it down. Graner closed the door of the safe and spun the combination. He
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took out an ornate leather case and fitted a long cigar into an amber holder.
He seemed to be in no hurry.
Simon turned over some of the implements on the bench and began to sort them
out into what looked like their various categories, although he hadn't the
faintest idea what any of them were.
He did as much as he could think of in that line, and then he hesitated.
Graner was strutting slowly up and down the room, with his hands clasped
behind his back.
"Don't pay any attention to me," he said. "I'm interested to see how you
work."
Simon turned the implements over again. He felt as if a strap was being
tightened about his chest.
"There isn't a chucker," he said.
Graner stopped strutting and looked at him.
"What is that?"
"It's the best tool there is for making the first cuts," said the Saint, who
had just invented it. "We always cut stones with a chucker."
"Your predecessor didn't seem to find it necessary."
Simon looked surprised.
"He didn't use a chucker? How long had he been out of a job when you took him
up?"
"He had been working for me for about four years," said Graner; and the Saint
nodded understandingly.
"Of course-that explains it. They only came in about three years ago, but now
everybody uses them. They save a tremendous amount of waste."
Graner took the cigar out of his mouth, trimmed the ash on his thumbnail, and
put it back.
"We will send to England for a chucker by the next mail," he said. "But if you
have been in the trade for fourteen years you will doubtless be able to use
the older tools for the time being."
The Saint picked up one of the diamonds and held it to the light, peering at
it from various angles. And at the same time he measured up Graner's position
in the room. He knew that Graner carried a gun, and he had already seen how
quickly he could draw it; he himself had nothing but his knife-but that had
won split-second contests with guns before, when the Saint had been ready and
waiting for them. Even so, it left the rest of the house and the outer
fortifications...
The base of the cutting or polishing machine, whatever it was, consisted of a
copper cup in which the diamond under operation was presumably supposed to
rest. Simon took the stone he was holding along to it and began to fiddle with
trying to fix it in place.
"By the way," he said, "what about my luggage?"
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There was no immediate answer, and after a moment the Saint looked up. Graner
was standing at the window with his back to him, looking out.
Simon felt under his left sleeve for the hilt of his little knife. His nerves
were quite cool now: he knew exactly what a chance he would be taking, and how
much he had to lose. But there might be no other remedy.
And then he realised why Graner was standing there. There was the sound of a
car manouvring outside, and Graner must have been watching it. All at once the
hum of the engine rose and died again rap-idly, and Simon knew that it had
entered the grounds.
Graner turned away from the window and stepped towards the door.
"Go on with your work," he said. "I shall be back in a few minutes."
The door closed behind him, and Simon Templar sagged back on the bench and
wiped his forehead.
A few seconds later, with the irrepressible grin which was the crystallisation
of all his philosophy, he took out his cigarette case and lighted a cigarette.
With the smoke going gratefully down into his lungs, he took another look at
his position. And the longer he looked at it the less he liked it. The Saint
was immune to panic, but he had an unflinching grasp on realities. The reality [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]