“Rather fortunately for you, I am,” said the Saint. “I overheard just enough of your conversation to settle a lot of early doubts about your honesty. Which only leaves your intelligence more in doubt than ever.”
Spangler suddenly yelled, “Karl! Help!”
Simon shook his head regretfully.
“Don’t strain your larynx, Doctor. It won’t do you any good. We met Brother Mancini’s successor at the door. My friend Mr Uniatz is watching over him in the hall to see that no one disturbs his slumber.” The Saint glanced at the knuckles of his left hand affectionately. “If this happens much more often I’m afraid the Butler’s Union will put you on the black list.”
Grady climbed to his feet, an angry glint in his eye.
“Now look here—” he began.
There was a sudden scurry of footfalls in the hall, and the outer door slammed open just ahead of a wrathful howl from Hoppy.
The Saint sighed, “I guess Karl is on his way to report to you now. I was hoping he’d sleep longer than that.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Grady spluttered.
“Yes,” Spangler said, all pretence at good humour blotted out by the venomous hatred that simmered behind the onyx sheen of his eyes, “what do you want?”