She turned languidly and inspected him, one finely arched eyebrow slightly raised. She had lovely eyes, large and dark and sparkling, shaded by very long lashes. Her dark hair gleamed with a warm autumn richness. The poise of her exquisitely modelled head, the angle of her childishly tip-tilted nose, the curl of her pretty lips, proclaimed her utter and profound disinterest in Simon Templar.
"What's happened to Luker and the others?" Simon asked. "I saw them come in with you just now."
"They're in the office talking to the coroner, if you want them," she said indifferently. Then suddenly she lost some of her indifference. "Are you a reporter?"
"No," said the Saint regretfully. "But I could get you one. May I compliment you on your taste in clothes. I always did like that dress."
He knew the dress very well, since he had helped Patricia to choose it.
Lady Valerie stared at him hard for a moment and then her expression changed completely. It ceased altogether to be cold and disdainful: her features became animated with eagerness.
"Oh," she said. "How silly of me! Of course I remember you now. You're the hero, aren't you?"
"Am I?"
She frowned a little.
"Not that I really hoot a lot about this hero business," she went on. "I daresay it's all very fine for great he-men to go rushing about dripping with sweat and doing noble things, but I think there ought to be special places set apart for them to perform in."