“And I’ll be there,” said the Saint. “It’s a moonlight swim for me to-night. That’s great—to let the Tiger Cubs themselves lead me to the cache! But the snag is . . . Holy Habbakuk . . . they’ll be waiting for me.” She stared. “They know I’ll invite myself, bless it!” “Why?” “Because they know I’m wise to this Old House joke. I let on, like a fool. That was a poisonous bad bloomer! I was ragging old Bloem about Fernando, just seeing how much breeze I could put up him, and I mentioned the Old House. They’ll think I knew exactly what and where it was. Oh, crumbs and crutches! D’you mind kicking me as hard as you can?” She was as distressed as he was. It was in no half-hearted manner that she had enlisted in the army of adventurers. A setback stung her as much as anybody. She bit her lip. “But they’re coming in,” she insisted. “Yes—forewarned and forearmed to the teeth. If I happen to have been a bit slow on the uptake, well and good. If I haven’t, and think I’ll butt in, they’ll be ready for me. Maybe the Tiger’s patting himself on the back right now, bucked to death with his dandy little scheme for getting away with the oof and me too. Well, it’s up to me to hand him the jar of his life. Sit tight a shake while I think.” He dropped into a chair and lighted a cigarette, his brain reeling and humming to encompass this new twist to the problem. Undoubtedly he had sized it up right—the Tiger was giving himself a double chance. And that move had got to be baulked somehow. But how? The Saint had only to breathe a word to Carn, and the Tiger was dished. But then so was the Saint. That put that out of bounds. He was fully prepared to swim out to the Old House that night, with Anna strapped to his arm, and trust to the inspiration of the moment to show him a way of beating the gang, even if they were watching and waiting for him. That was an honest toss-up with sudden death, and Simon took risks of that stamp without turning a hair. But on the other hand he liked to have at least a shadowy loop-hole for emergencies—there was no point in chucking the game away for lack of a little forethought. And how to provide that loop-hole? The Tiger’s forces were large: the Saint could reckon on only Orace and the girl, besides himself. And he didn’t want to push a slip of a girl into the front line, however keen she might be to go. How to make three people—or nearer two and a half—do the work of a platoon was a poser worthy of the undivided attention of a great general. Manifestly, it could not be done by any ordinary means. Therefore, there must be subtlety.