Leslie Charteris

Leslie Charteris

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SYNOPSIS THE golden sun grew fat in its old age, and as it sank low over the distant Irish hills the whole countryside seemed to share in the hush of its going. There was no breeze. The birds were still, and even the stream, moving deep and slow between green banks, made scarcely a murmur. Only now and then a trout, striking at some floating insect in the shallows, would break the silence with a sudden splash whose purl quickly smoothed and silently vanished. Simon Templar stood tall and lean by the water, his blue eyes watching the surface for signs of trout within range of his line. An ambiguous swirl downstream failed to distract him. He had chosen this pool because instinct—sharpened by a lifetime of hunting human prey, and not rarely being hunted himself—told him that in this widening of the stream would be lurking a prize worthy of his time and skill.