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.This house, for example, hadbeen in the family for several generations.During the war, things fell apart.These paintings, as I understand it, had been in the family for a long time.To my father, they were not an investment a way of making money.They were atrust.He made certain they were hidden before he went to fight theCommunists.Then he told me as he saw the war was going to be lost, he wasafraid that the Communists very possibly would take over Austria and Italy,and of course would con-fiscate private property.He sent instructions for thepaint-ings to be taken out through the Alps to Switzerland by his sister.Then, as I told you, he was captured by the Russians and held for years.Whenhe came back, his sister was dead.He didn't tell me the details, but somehowhe located the paintings.He did not want to sell them, but when he died thisyear he told me they were all he had to leave me, that I would find them herein this house, and that I should sell them with no publicity to a reputabledealer."The Saint sipped his sherry meditatively.Annabella Lambrini seemed genuinelymoved as she told the end of her story.She had lowered her eyes, and now shesat without speaking."Don't feel you're smashing up the family tradition," he said."ThreeLeonardos and a Titian or two thrown in are quite a bit for any woman to livewith.I think LeGrand is your best bet, unless you can afford a mansion and aPage 16 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsmall private army."She raised her eyes and looked at him with a new expres-sion."I think you are the only army I need, or want," she said."And I've never had a pleasanter job of guard duty," the Saint replied.He raised his glass, and she raised hers, and the crystal bubbles touched withthe sound of tiny bells, and Simon wondered if he believed a single word ofwhat she had told him.5There were no disturbances that night.Whoever was after Annabella Lambrini'slittle cache of masterpieces had ap-parently given up trying to take them bystorm, at least for the time being.By nine-thirty in the morning theLam-brini household was a picture of commonplace and cozy normality.Acompletely recovered Hans Kraus was out in the gravel driveway washing theMercedes with hose and chamois, and Simon and Annabella were polishing off thelast of eggs, rolls, jam, and coffee in the bright dining room.The Saintlooked out through the large window at the chauffeur moving around thestreaming black car and re-leased a contented sigh."I must have been born with royal blood in my veins," he said."There'snothing that gives me a greater sense of well-being than sitting at a latebreakfast with a beautiful woman and watching other people work."Annabella smiled.She was not only visibly excited about the fortune the daywas supposed to bring her; she seemed absolutely radiant compared with thetense tired state she had been in the evening before."After this morning I won't let Hans work," she said happily."He deserves toretire.""Are you sure he wants to? Some people thrive on hard labor.""I can't imagine it."The Saint chuckled."Neither can I.It makes me think of a prison sentence." He looked at hiswatch."When is it you're going to legally raid the banks of France?""LeGrand said he would be here with his friend at ten-thirty.Maybe we shouldput the paintings out for him to see.""They are still there, aren't they?"She laughed."I've checked three times already.They're quite safe."Before Simon heard or saw a car approaching the house he noticed through thewindow that Hans Kraus had paused in his polishing and was peering down thedriveway toward the road."I think he's here," he said, getting up from the table."Or somebody."Annabella was fidgeting like a schoolgirl before her first dance."Don't tease me.Or somebody, indeed! It will be him.It has to be him!"It was LeGrand.The Saint recognized his dark-bearded head as a frog-nosedblue Citroën crunched to a halt near the Mercedes.There was no one else withhim in the car.Annabella Lambrini almost ran for the front door.Outside,Hans Kraus, looking fiercely protective, had taken up a posi-tion by the frontsteps as if preparing to repel boarders [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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.This house, for example, hadbeen in the family for several generations.During the war, things fell apart.These paintings, as I understand it, had been in the family for a long time.To my father, they were not an investment a way of making money.They were atrust.He made certain they were hidden before he went to fight theCommunists.Then he told me as he saw the war was going to be lost, he wasafraid that the Communists very possibly would take over Austria and Italy,and of course would con-fiscate private property.He sent instructions for thepaint-ings to be taken out through the Alps to Switzerland by his sister.Then, as I told you, he was captured by the Russians and held for years.Whenhe came back, his sister was dead.He didn't tell me the details, but somehowhe located the paintings.He did not want to sell them, but when he died thisyear he told me they were all he had to leave me, that I would find them herein this house, and that I should sell them with no publicity to a reputabledealer."The Saint sipped his sherry meditatively.Annabella Lambrini seemed genuinelymoved as she told the end of her story.She had lowered her eyes, and now shesat without speaking."Don't feel you're smashing up the family tradition," he said."ThreeLeonardos and a Titian or two thrown in are quite a bit for any woman to livewith.I think LeGrand is your best bet, unless you can afford a mansion and aPage 16 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsmall private army."She raised her eyes and looked at him with a new expres-sion."I think you are the only army I need, or want," she said."And I've never had a pleasanter job of guard duty," the Saint replied.He raised his glass, and she raised hers, and the crystal bubbles touched withthe sound of tiny bells, and Simon wondered if he believed a single word ofwhat she had told him.5There were no disturbances that night.Whoever was after Annabella Lambrini'slittle cache of masterpieces had ap-parently given up trying to take them bystorm, at least for the time being.By nine-thirty in the morning theLam-brini household was a picture of commonplace and cozy normality.Acompletely recovered Hans Kraus was out in the gravel driveway washing theMercedes with hose and chamois, and Simon and Annabella were polishing off thelast of eggs, rolls, jam, and coffee in the bright dining room.The Saintlooked out through the large window at the chauffeur moving around thestreaming black car and re-leased a contented sigh."I must have been born with royal blood in my veins," he said."There'snothing that gives me a greater sense of well-being than sitting at a latebreakfast with a beautiful woman and watching other people work."Annabella smiled.She was not only visibly excited about the fortune the daywas supposed to bring her; she seemed absolutely radiant compared with thetense tired state she had been in the evening before."After this morning I won't let Hans work," she said happily."He deserves toretire.""Are you sure he wants to? Some people thrive on hard labor.""I can't imagine it."The Saint chuckled."Neither can I.It makes me think of a prison sentence." He looked at hiswatch."When is it you're going to legally raid the banks of France?""LeGrand said he would be here with his friend at ten-thirty.Maybe we shouldput the paintings out for him to see.""They are still there, aren't they?"She laughed."I've checked three times already.They're quite safe."Before Simon heard or saw a car approaching the house he noticed through thewindow that Hans Kraus had paused in his polishing and was peering down thedriveway toward the road."I think he's here," he said, getting up from the table."Or somebody."Annabella was fidgeting like a schoolgirl before her first dance."Don't tease me.Or somebody, indeed! It will be him.It has to be him!"It was LeGrand.The Saint recognized his dark-bearded head as a frog-nosedblue Citroën crunched to a halt near the Mercedes.There was no one else withhim in the car.Annabella Lambrini almost ran for the front door.Outside,Hans Kraus, looking fiercely protective, had taken up a posi-tion by the frontsteps as if preparing to repel boarders [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]