She caught her breath.
"You — you're not taking me to the Carlton? But I want to go to the Carlton! Take me there at once! Tell the chauffeur to turn round—"
She leaned forward and tried to hammer on the glass partition. Quite effortlessly the Saint pushed her back.
"Shut up," he said calmly. "You make me sick."
"W-what?" she said.
She stared at him with solemn wide-open eyes as if he were some strange monster that she was seeing for the first time.
"It's no use both of us being sick," he pointed out reasonably. "It would be a deafening duet."
"I don't know what good you think this is going to do you," she said haughtily. "If you think you're going to protect me, or anything like that—"
"Protect you?" he said, with bland incomprehension. "Who — me? Darling, that would never enter my head. I know you can look after yourself. But I want to take care of you for my own sake. You see, it wouldn't suit me at all if you sold those papers to Fairweather or Luker. I want them too much myself. So I just want to keep an eye on you until I get them."
"You — you mean you're kidnapping me?" she got out incredulously.