And the Saint swung his heavy staff as though weighing its efficiency as a bludgeon, and the clear blue eyes with that lively devil of mischief glimmering in their depths never left Carn's red face. Carn glared back chokingly.

"Sir," he exploded at length, "let me tell you — "

"I, too, was once an Inspector of Horse Marines to the Swiss Navy," the Saint encouraged him gently; and, when Carn's indignation proved to have become speechless, he added: "But why am I so unsociable? Come along to the Pill Box and have a spot of supper. I'm afraid it'll only be tinned stuff — we stopped having fresh meat since a seagull died after tasting the Sunday joint — but our brandy, is Napoleon …. and Orace grills sardines marvelously….”

He linked his arm in Carn's and urged the naturalist along, chattering irrepressibly. It is an almost incredible tribute to the charm which the Saint could exert, to record that he coaxed Carn into acceptance in three minutes and had him chuckling at a grossly improper limerick by the time they reached the Pill Box.

"You're a card, Templar," said Carn as they sat over Martinis in the sitting room, and the Saint„ raised indulgent eyebrows.

"Because I called your bluff?"

"Because you didn't hesitate.”

"He who hesitates," said the Saint sententiously, "is bossed. No mughopper will ever spiel this baby.

They talked politics arid literature through supper (the Saint had original and heretical views on both Subjects) as dispassionately as the most ordinary men, met together in the most ordinary circumstances, might have done.

After Orace had served coffee and withdrawn, Carn produced a cigar case and offered it to the Saint. Templar looked, and shook his head with a smile.

"Not even with you, dear heart," he said, and Carn was aggrieved.

"There's nothing wrong with them."

"I'm so glad you haven't wasted a cigar, then."

"If I give you my word — "