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."The service," the Saint said, "leaves nothing to be desired, excepteverything.""Then why don't you just go away?" asked the manager.The Saint decided to be stubborn."Why?""No reason," the manager said."We reserve the right to re-fuse service toanyone.Our sign says so."He indicated a sign above the bar."And you are refusing me service?""No.Not if you don't cause trouble.""And?"The manager nodded to the waiter."Get him his drinks.""I'm not gonna serve him," the waiter said.The manager stamped a gleaming shoe."Did you hear me?"The waiter went away."Now," the Saint said, "where were we? Oh, yes, we were discussing," he saidto the manager, "the more obscure aspects of suicide in American night clubs.Would you have anything to add to our data soon?"The manager smiled a crooked smile and departed.The Saint caught the eye ofJames Prather and formed a question: "Now that we've gone through thepreliminary moves, shall we get down to business?"Prather goggled rather like a fish in an aquarium tank, but before the Saintcould begin to explain he caught sight of the waiter returning with a tray ofpink concoctions in champagne glasses."I," Simon announced, "am beginning to become annoyed.Avec knobs on."The waiter slammed the tray on the table and distributed the drinks.The Sainteyed his.It was definitely not a Pink Lady.Nor was it pink cham-pagne.There wasgrenadine in it, judging from the viscosity apparent to the eye.There mightbe gin, or even water.He raised his eyes."What is this?"The waiter's eyes were like small blue marbles."They're bourbon and sodas,see?""Pink bourbon?""Ja ever see any other kind?" the waiter snarled.Page 41 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"I believe," Simon said gently, "that I have been patient.Compared to the wayI've conducted myself, burros are subjects for straitjackets.You have broughtfour rounds of liquid abor-tions that no self-respecting canned-heat houndwould dip a finger in.While this went on, I have kept my temper.Job him-selfwould stack up beside me like a nervous cat.I have taken all your insultswith a smile.But I warn you, if you don't bring the right order on your nexttrip, you are going to wish your mother had spanked the bad manners out of youbefore I had to.""So you wanta make trouble, huh?" The waiter signalled."Hey, Jake!"The bartender, who seemed to be Jake, stopped shaking a whiskey sour at thetop of the motion, looking something like a circus giant caught in a balletpose.He was pushing six feet and a half with shoulders perhaps not so wide asa door, but wide enough.He had a face like the butt end of a redwood log, andhands like great brown clamps on the shaker.His customers turned to regard the tableau across the big room according tothe stages of inebriety they'd reached.A middle-aged man with a briefmoustache twirled it at Avalon.A lady of uncertain balance lifted one side ofa bright mouth at the Saint.A young couple stared, and turned back to theirprivate discussion, which, to judge from their expression, was going to windup in the nearest bedroom.Jake then set down the shaker, and walked around the end of the bar.At thesame moment a third man, large and aproned, came out of the archway and joinedhim.They marched to-gether across the dance floor, side by side, and advancedupon the Saint.It was obvious that he was their objective.The Saint didn't move.He watched the approach of the brawny gents with thebright-eyed interest of a small boy at his first circus.He noted the width ofJake's shoulders, the practiced walk bespeaking sessions in a prize ring, andthe shamble of his companion.He weighed them, mentally, and calculated theswiftness of their reflexes.He smiled.He could see Avalon's clenched fists, just below the rim of the table, andfrom the corner of his eye he noted Prather's bug-eyed interest.Jake directed a calm, steady, brown-eyed gaze at Simon Templar."Get out of here.Now."Simon didn't seem to push his chair back.He seemed only to come to anastonished attention.But in that straightening mo-tion, his chair was somehowa good three inches back from the edge of the table and he could come to hisfeet without being hampered."Yes?" he drawled with hopeful interest."How jolly.Ask your boss to come outand explain.""The boss don't need to explain," said the spokesman."We'll do all theexplainin' necessary.""Then suppose you do, my lad.""What is this all about, Jake?" Avalon asked."The boss don't want him here, that's all.And we'll throw him out if he don'tscram." Jake turned back to the Saint."Look, chum, we ain't anxious to spreadyour pretty face all around like gravy.But we can, and will, if'n you don'tbeat it.And don't come back."The Saint gestured at the table."You can see I haven't finished my drink.Nor has my lady friend.""She can stay.It's just you that's goin'."The Saint smiled mockingly."It is always a mystery to me how human beings canbecome so misguided as to assume im-possibilities.I should think anybodywould know I'm not going out of here without Miss Dexter.She has aninflexible rule; namely, 'I'm gonna leave with the guy what brung me.'Name-ly, yours truly.""Can the gab," Jake said."You goin' out on your feet, or would you ratherpick up teeth as you crawl out?"Jake didn't seem to be angry, or impatient.He was merely giving the Saint achoice.Like: do you want your nails filed round or pointed?Simon got lazily to his feet.Page 42 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Sorry, Mr.Prather," he said."I was just getting interested -in ourconversation.Be with you in a moment.The children, you know.They getannoying at times and have to be cut back to size.Jake, you shouldn'tbe such a naughty boy, really you shouldn't.Papa's told you before aboutinterrupting your elders.Run along and play now, and you won't be chastised."Jake nodded at his cohorts, and they moved at once [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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."The service," the Saint said, "leaves nothing to be desired, excepteverything.""Then why don't you just go away?" asked the manager.The Saint decided to be stubborn."Why?""No reason," the manager said."We reserve the right to re-fuse service toanyone.Our sign says so."He indicated a sign above the bar."And you are refusing me service?""No.Not if you don't cause trouble.""And?"The manager nodded to the waiter."Get him his drinks.""I'm not gonna serve him," the waiter said.The manager stamped a gleaming shoe."Did you hear me?"The waiter went away."Now," the Saint said, "where were we? Oh, yes, we were discussing," he saidto the manager, "the more obscure aspects of suicide in American night clubs.Would you have anything to add to our data soon?"The manager smiled a crooked smile and departed.The Saint caught the eye ofJames Prather and formed a question: "Now that we've gone through thepreliminary moves, shall we get down to business?"Prather goggled rather like a fish in an aquarium tank, but before the Saintcould begin to explain he caught sight of the waiter returning with a tray ofpink concoctions in champagne glasses."I," Simon announced, "am beginning to become annoyed.Avec knobs on."The waiter slammed the tray on the table and distributed the drinks.The Sainteyed his.It was definitely not a Pink Lady.Nor was it pink cham-pagne.There wasgrenadine in it, judging from the viscosity apparent to the eye.There mightbe gin, or even water.He raised his eyes."What is this?"The waiter's eyes were like small blue marbles."They're bourbon and sodas,see?""Pink bourbon?""Ja ever see any other kind?" the waiter snarled.Page 41 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"I believe," Simon said gently, "that I have been patient.Compared to the wayI've conducted myself, burros are subjects for straitjackets.You have broughtfour rounds of liquid abor-tions that no self-respecting canned-heat houndwould dip a finger in.While this went on, I have kept my temper.Job him-selfwould stack up beside me like a nervous cat.I have taken all your insultswith a smile.But I warn you, if you don't bring the right order on your nexttrip, you are going to wish your mother had spanked the bad manners out of youbefore I had to.""So you wanta make trouble, huh?" The waiter signalled."Hey, Jake!"The bartender, who seemed to be Jake, stopped shaking a whiskey sour at thetop of the motion, looking something like a circus giant caught in a balletpose.He was pushing six feet and a half with shoulders perhaps not so wide asa door, but wide enough.He had a face like the butt end of a redwood log, andhands like great brown clamps on the shaker.His customers turned to regard the tableau across the big room according tothe stages of inebriety they'd reached.A middle-aged man with a briefmoustache twirled it at Avalon.A lady of uncertain balance lifted one side ofa bright mouth at the Saint.A young couple stared, and turned back to theirprivate discussion, which, to judge from their expression, was going to windup in the nearest bedroom.Jake then set down the shaker, and walked around the end of the bar.At thesame moment a third man, large and aproned, came out of the archway and joinedhim.They marched to-gether across the dance floor, side by side, and advancedupon the Saint.It was obvious that he was their objective.The Saint didn't move.He watched the approach of the brawny gents with thebright-eyed interest of a small boy at his first circus.He noted the width ofJake's shoulders, the practiced walk bespeaking sessions in a prize ring, andthe shamble of his companion.He weighed them, mentally, and calculated theswiftness of their reflexes.He smiled.He could see Avalon's clenched fists, just below the rim of the table, andfrom the corner of his eye he noted Prather's bug-eyed interest.Jake directed a calm, steady, brown-eyed gaze at Simon Templar."Get out of here.Now."Simon didn't seem to push his chair back.He seemed only to come to anastonished attention.But in that straightening mo-tion, his chair was somehowa good three inches back from the edge of the table and he could come to hisfeet without being hampered."Yes?" he drawled with hopeful interest."How jolly.Ask your boss to come outand explain.""The boss don't need to explain," said the spokesman."We'll do all theexplainin' necessary.""Then suppose you do, my lad.""What is this all about, Jake?" Avalon asked."The boss don't want him here, that's all.And we'll throw him out if he don'tscram." Jake turned back to the Saint."Look, chum, we ain't anxious to spreadyour pretty face all around like gravy.But we can, and will, if'n you don'tbeat it.And don't come back."The Saint gestured at the table."You can see I haven't finished my drink.Nor has my lady friend.""She can stay.It's just you that's goin'."The Saint smiled mockingly."It is always a mystery to me how human beings canbecome so misguided as to assume im-possibilities.I should think anybodywould know I'm not going out of here without Miss Dexter.She has aninflexible rule; namely, 'I'm gonna leave with the guy what brung me.'Name-ly, yours truly.""Can the gab," Jake said."You goin' out on your feet, or would you ratherpick up teeth as you crawl out?"Jake didn't seem to be angry, or impatient.He was merely giving the Saint achoice.Like: do you want your nails filed round or pointed?Simon got lazily to his feet.Page 42 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Sorry, Mr.Prather," he said."I was just getting interested -in ourconversation.Be with you in a moment.The children, you know.They getannoying at times and have to be cut back to size.Jake, you shouldn'tbe such a naughty boy, really you shouldn't.Papa's told you before aboutinterrupting your elders.Run along and play now, and you won't be chastised."Jake nodded at his cohorts, and they moved at once [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]