“It’s Connie Grady, boss!”
She hesitated in the kitchen door, slim and dewy-fresh, her short auburn curls making her look very young and almost boyish, with Hoppy looming up behind her like a grinning Cerberus.
“Come in, darling,” said the Saint. He took her hand and led her to the breakfast alcove. “Miss Grady, this is my colleague, Miss Holm.”
“Hullo, Connie,” said Patricia sympathetically. “Welcome to the harem.”
Connie Grady glanced uncertainly from Pat to Simon. “I... I didn’t know you were having company,” she said. “I didn’t want to—”
“It’s perfectly all right,” Simon assured her. “Pat really is my colleague in... er... many of my enterprises. Anything you say to me you can say to her with equal freedom.” He waved to Hoppy. “That’s another of my colleagues — Hoppy Uniatz.”
“Likewise, I’m sure,” Hoppy beamed. “I seen ya lotsa times when your pop was runnin’ de old Queensbury Gym, remember? Ya useta bring him his lunch.”
Her elfin features crinkled in a smile.
“Yes... I remember.”
“Sit down,” said the Saint. “We’re just starting.”