“She’s been committing sins, Hoppy.”
“At her age?”
“Sins of omission. She’s never on her corner at night. And she wasn’t there Saturday afternoon.”
“Okay. Maybe she gets tired.”
“Beggars don’t get tired at the most profitable homes,” Simon said. “It’s the theatre crowds that pay off. I’m wondering why she’s never around when she’d have a chance to get some real moola.”
Hoppy had a flash of perspicacity.
“Is dat why we been hanging around her?”
“I’ve been waiting for something. I don’t know what, but... I think this is it!”
The Saint was suddenly standing up, dropping the binoculars into a chair which seemed to have ejected him with a spontaneous convulsion of its springs. He was out of the apartment before Hoppy could decide what to do with the BB in his mouth.
This problem, proved far too difficult for snap judgment. Hoppy was still rolling the shot on his tongue when he joined the Saint at the elevator.