The Saint Closes the Case (The Saint Series)
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When Simon and Patricia stumble upon a government scientist testing a weapon of mass destruction, the Saint decides to put a stop to it. But when the Saint’s archnemesis, Rayt Marius, turns up, the Saint’s plans go astray, leading one of his friends to make the ultimate sacrifice.
of his mind. Presently it came out. “I never was the bright boy of the class,” he said, “but I’d like one thing plain. We agree that Vargan, on behalf of certain financial interests, is out to start a war. If he brings it off we shall be in the thick of it. We always are. The poor blessed Britisher gets roped into everybody else’s squabbles…Well, we certainly don’t want Vargan’s bit of frightfulness used against us, but mightn’t it save a lot of trouble if we could use it ourselves?” The Saint
—Leslie Charteris (1964) PRELUDE It is said that in these hectic days no item of news is capable of holding the interest of the public for more than a week; therefore journalists and news editors age swiftly, and become prematurely bald and bad-tempered, Tatcho and Kruschen availing them naught. A new sensation must be provided from day to day, and each sensation must eclipse its predecessor, till the dictionary is bled dry of superlatives, and the imagination pales before the task of
foot crashed into the small of his back with a savage force that might well have broken the spine—if it had struck the spine. But it struck to one side of the spine, in a place almost as vulnerable, and Roger went to the floor with a gasp of agony. Then both the fat man and the lean man leapt on him together. The gun was wrenched out of Roger’s hand. He could not have seen to shoot, anyway, for the pain had blinded him. He could not cry out—his throat was constricted with a horrible numbing
But the same methods could not possibly be applied this time. Yet the Saint pleaded: “Won’t you let me stay, son? I do trust you, but I know you’re wounded—” Norman Kent shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I shall be carried out of here in state.” “When do we see you?” asked Roger. Norman gazed dreamily into the distance, and what he saw there seemed to amuse him. “I shall be some time,” he said. And he turned to the Prince. “May I write a short note?” “I remind you,” said the
roamed the globe restlessly, rarely in one place for longer than a couple of months. He continued to maintain a firm grip on the exploitation of the Saint in various media but was writing little himself. The Saint had become an industry, and Charteris couldn’t keep up. He began thinking seriously about an early retirement. Then in 1951 he met a young actress called Audrey Long when they became next-door neighbours in Hollywood. Within a year they had married, a union that was to last the rest of