“It’s the way I’m taking,” said the Saint. “Come in, Hoppy.”
Mr Uniatz rose from behind the front seat and applied the muzzle of his Betsy to the nape of Kearney’s neck. “Okay, copper,” he said. “Take it easy.”
The detective’s face went white, then red.
“You can’t get away with this,” he said desperately.
“We can try,” said the Saint. “I’ve just had an inspiration, and I’m going to be much too busy to horse around with any footling rap about disturbing the peace.”
He sped the car west on Roosevelt, and presently turned up Central Avenue to Columbus Park, where he stopped.
“Okay, Hoppy,” he said.
“De woiks, boss?”
“Just let him take a nap,” Simon said hastily.
Mr Uniatz raised his gun and brought it down with professional precision, and the detective napped...