There was going to be no quick checkmate. This was not even the time to give check.
“No, sir,” he said weakly. “No questions now.”
“Let’s go,” Frankie said.
He replaced the elastic bandage and gripped the Saint’s arm. Again the latch clicked, and they went up the stairs. Again there was a cool wind and concrete underfoot.
Something clinked in the Saint’s pocket and rattled on the pavement. Simon stopped and bent over, groping hesitantly, but Frankie’s hand jerked him upright again. Suspicion rasped in the man’s voice.
“Hey, what’s the idea?”
Then the chauffeur, “It’s only half a buck the guy dropped. Here it is.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon stammered. “I guess I’m... kind of nervous.”
That carried conviction, and both men laughed briefly.
“You won’t get rich that way,” the chauffeur said, and put the coin in the Saint’s hand. “Come on. We’re taking another little ride.”