She looked up like a startled gopher, and Simon Templar gave her the same friendly smile with which he had short-circuited her before.
“It was Dr Kurt Spangler you wanted, wasn’t it?” he said, and strolled on out before she could find her voice.
Hoppy Uniatz had the engine of the convertible racing as Simon opened the door, and he scarcely gave the Saint time to sit down before he banged in the clutch and sent the car roaring up the street and lurching around the first corner against the lights.
“What are you trying to do?” Simon asked. “Pick up a ticket?”
“Don’t worry, boss,” Hoppy said. “De getaway is a cinch. I drove lotsa dese jobs before. Dijja blast him good?”
Simon considered him.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Dat bum, Grady! Ya just give him de business, don’tcha?”
The Saint shook his head patiently.
“No, Hoppy, no. I never said that our visitor last night was Mike Grady. Let’s head for Riverside Drive — I mean to talk to Steve Nelson in person.”