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.He spilled gasoline from a small bottle on to some of the rags, ignited themone by one, and dropped them down the chimney.When a thick column of black smoke began to rise between him and the nightsky, he stuffed the knapsack into the chimney's mouth and waited.What couldbe more alarming to those en-trusted with the care of a priceless Rembrandtthan the threat of fire? Simon did not think he would have to wait very long.In about five minutes he heard men's voices coming muffled through the windowsjust below him.Grasping the rope, he edged down to the rim of the roof."Alf? Alf?" someone was shouting.The time was almost here, and the Saint's timing would have to be perfect.Heused the rope in mountain-climber style, using it to support himself as hewent down over the eave and leaned out into the darkness with his feet bracedagainst the stone side of the house.The first guard to go down looking forthe source of the smoke would hopefully get the full benefit of the surprisethat the Saint had set up for him earlier on the stairs.a strand of wirestretched just below knee level between the railings and the wall."Go look, can't you!" a heavy voice shouted.The Saint tensed his legs.Hisears strained to detect what at last he heard a distant tumbling succession ofthuds far down in the house.Then he unleashed all the coiled power in his leg-muscles.He sprang out fromthe side of the house, and swinging in again sailed feet first through thewindow he had chosen.All his astonishingly quick perceptions were required to pull together thefragmented impressions that came as he smashed through the window-glass andhurtled into the room where he knew Adrian was held prisoner.Even coming sosuddenly from darkness into light, even in the split second of landing on hisfeet and throwing aside the rope, he saw it all: the big easels to his right,the slight bearded man cowering beside them, the much broader back of anotherman who was heading for the door of the room as the Saint made his acrobaticentrance.Even though he had never felt called upon to perform such a feat, Simon mighthave passed his hand safely beneath the smashing spring of a rat trap betweenthe time it was released and the time it struck home.He moved just as swiftlynow.The man at the door was still in the process of spinning round to seewhat had happened to the window behind him when the Saint struck.There was noPage 36 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlneed for even a short struggle.The guard's head was simply carried straightand heartily into the wall by the Saint's flying leap.This vigourousencounter of oak and bone produced a most satisfying result, from Simon'spoint of view at any rate.For his victim it meant instant escape from allworldly cares and responsibilities, at least until he woke up with a mildconcussion some hours later.As he drew his automatic, Simon said soothingly to the fright-ened young manon his right, "I'm here to help you.Don't move.Don't do anything.Just tellme, how many guards are here with you tonight?""Three, I think."Satisfied that his first captive had told the truth, Simon switched off thelight and moved into the corridor.He could make out the head of the stairwayby a dim strip of light which escaped through the door of another room.Theair was heavy with smoke.He heard a groan below."If you are awake," he called cheerfully, "don't move or I will shoot youdead."Apparently a groan was about all that the man at the foot of the stairs wascapable of.Simon could see that he was sprawled awkwardly, with his right armat an unnatural angle, broken or thrown out of joint by his crash.With hispistol aimed at the in-jured man's head, Simon went down the steps and madehim se-cure, if not more comfortable, with the same piece of wire which hadcaused his downfall.Back in Norcombe's room with the light again, Simon had his first good look atthe young artist.Long brown hair and beard wreathed his countenance so thathe looked like a gnome peering out of a bird's nest.He was very pale,probably more so on this occasion than usual; his long boney hands flutteredapprehen-sively as he watched the unconscious man on the floor being tied handand foot."My name is Simon Templar," the Saint introduced himself, rising to loungeeasily on the arm of a chair, with his automatic back in its holster."I'vecome to get you out of this mess.Your sister's outside waiting for you.""Julie!" Adrian exclaimed eagerly."Is she all right? They told me if I didn'tdo what they wanted they'd do dreadful things to her.""She's fine.How about you?""I'm all right.Are you the police?""No, I'm just a friend
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