The Unlicensed Victuallers - Ace of Knaves - Leslie Charteris

He took hold of the shabby tweed cap and jerked it off; and the ray of the torch in his hand jumped wildly as a flood of golden hair broke loose to curl around the face of a girl whose sheer loveliness took his breath away.

She stood in the open doorway, her feet astride with a hint of boyish swagger, still in her soiled overalls, one hand in the trouser pocket, with the yellow curls tumbling around her exquisitely moulded face, a slight smile on her red lips. Her eyes, he discovered, now that he saw them for the first time, were a dark midnight grey--almost the same shade as the automatic she held steadily levelled at his chest.

For three seconds the Saint stood rigidly spellbound. And then a slow smile touched the corners of his mouth in response.

The Saint's lighter flared in the darkness, catching the exultant glint in his eyes under impudently slanted brows. When the light went out and left only the glow-worm point of his cigarette it was as if something vital and commanding had been abruptly snatched away, leaving an irreparable void; but out of the void his voice spoke with the gay lilt of approaching climax.

The Unlicensed Victuallers - Ace of Knaves - Leslie Charteris