“He ran at you deliberately!” Nelson blurted as he came up.
“That’s my trouble — I can’t keep my fans away,” said the Saint, and plunged into the water.
“Let him croak!” Hoppy bellowed breathlessly as he came running up. “De bum was trying to get ya!”
The Saint needed only one dive to tell him what he wanted to know. Nelson read the truth on his face as he came to the surface and rejoined him on the sidewalk.
“You know him?” he asked.
“Doc Spangler,” the Saint said laconically, “is going to need a new butler.”
He glanced up at the Park’s Lenox Avenue entrance. Several people, appearing magically, were running down to the scene of the “accident.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and bounded back over the iron fence and up the embankment.
Hoppy and Nelson followed him. They got into the car and sped away as an approaching police car siren lifted its high, clear alarum on the morning air.
“Spangler again,” Nelson muttered grimly, staring straight ahead.