The Saint and "The Spanish Cow"
SEVERE SPOILERS AHEAD
If you're a fan of the Saint and haven't read this story yet, better skip this review. On the other hand, if you did read "The Spanish Cow" years ago and have fond (if fading) memories of it, let's reminisce about one of the more appealing moments in the career of our Robin Hood of Modern Crime. This tale was first published in the July 1936 issue of PEARSONS but (if you don't just happen to have copies of a seventy-year-old British magazine in your garage), it's also available in the collection THE SAINT IN EUROPE. It's a pretty straightforward little yarn, with no complicated battle of wits against criminals or the law, no swashbuckling action or brutal murders. The Saint is out to freshen up his bank account by robbing a pigeon of valuable gems but something unexpected snags his usual game.
Drowsing on the beach at Juan-les-Pins in France, Simon Templar is reflecting on the spectacle of acres of human flesh sizzling in the sun. For company, he enjoys the pleasing Myra Campion. But his mind is not entirely on the slim blonde stretched out at his side, for he has picked a target on which to practice his larcenous craft. This is the wealthy widow of a Detroit manufacturer, Mrs Pophyria Nussberg. Now, Mrs Nussberg is a remarkably unattractive and unlikeable middle-aged woman. I would rather not get into a detailed description of her appearance or bizarre wardrobe, but take it as understood. (Imagine, say, Shelley Winters at her brassy latter-day worst.) Even so, and given her pugnacious attitude, she is treated to unforgivable rudeness by the sunbathers, especially the young Greek gods and nymphs who can't imagine that they would ever get old and fat someday. Even Simon, normally polite unless imposed upon, grins thoughtlessly at her appearance and
gets off on the wrong foot. (He refers to her mentally as "the Spanish Cow", as a translation of a French phrase for a clumsy oaf or boor.)
This initial misstep could be a problem because Mrs Nussberg is the owner of diamonds worth two hundred thousand dollars, "and it was a part of his career to take those jewels away and apply them to a better use than encircling her billowy neck" Taking advantage of an insolent man's deliberate knocking over a drink on the woman, Simon calmly demands an apology and then lands a neat hard jab on the man's mouth. ("Even if he had not been interested in Mrs Nussberg's jewels, he would probably have done the same thing.") This gallant gesture is the opening he needs to make amends and begin to win her over.
Our boy shows some nice understanding of human nature as he patiently overcomes her suspicion and outright hostility. He can of course be overwhelmingly charming, but here he is careful not to lay it on TOO thick. She takes him to be a typical gigolo, but he quietly returns the offered money and (gradually but surely) she starts to trust him. Simon is polite but unpersistent, casual good company which is exactly what works.
Soon enough, he manages to get her hotel key for a second, all he needs to make a wax impression. Filing down a copy from a blank. he goes into his cat burglar mode and sets out to relieve Mrs Nussberg of the diamonds her husband left her. And yet, he is not quite his usual blithe self. Stealing from hardened gangsters is one thing. Lifting jewels from heartless millionaires who will hardly notice the loss is also acceptable for a freebooter. But something is troubling him. ("He was a little tired of Juan-les-Pins; and even in that brief time, more than a little tired of the part he had to play.")
Peering in the window of her room, Simon hears a dreadful voice rasping a love song they had listened to at a dance earlier. Mrs Porphyria Nussberg is sitting before her vanity mirror with a fortune in gems before her, singing to herself with tears in her eyes. The Saint suddenly understands just what the stones mean to her, that she once was beautiful and men thought enough of her to freely give her treasures, back in "the young years, when it had not been so strange for a handsome
cavalier to dance with her without a fee, before time mocked those things into the unthinkable depths of loneliness."
And Simon Templar quietly steps back, smokes a cigarette and walks off into the night, with empty pockets but a clear conscience.
I love the occasional changes of pace Leslie Charteris threw into his usual mix of "The Saint outwits a con man trying to frame him" (which seems to be the plot of a majority of the later stories). Like "The Golden Journey", this is a glimpse into a different side of our rogue. I was immediately unhappy to first read that Simon intended to rob this (admittedly dreadful) woman of the gems which meant so much more to her than monetary value, and the final sentence left me with a reassured
smile.