Chapter fourteen
The telephone at the clerk’s elbow buzzed. He picked it up and said, “Night clerk speaking...” His eyes went to the Saint and he said, “Yes, he just came in—”
Then his eyes bulged while they still rested on the Saint. Simon watched them grow wider and rounder before the man backed away from the counter and turned his head.
The Saint deliberately dawdled over lighting a cigarette, but even his supersensitive ears could pick nothing up, for all the rest of the conversation came from the other end of the line, until the clerk muttered, “Okay, I’ll do my best.”
Simon started to move away.
“Er... Mr Templar...”
He turned.
“Yes?”
The clerk was sweating. His face had a slightly glazed surface from the strain of trying to look natural.
“The manager just called, Mr Templar, and wanted to speak to you about... about an overcharge on your bill.”