Simon nodded.
“But can you shoot with it?”
“I’m telling you I can shoot with it.”
“That tin can up on the slope, for instance,” Simon persisted innocently. “Do you think you could hit that?”
Urselli squinted upward.
“Sure.”
“I’d like to see you do it,” said the Saint airily.
The barb in his words was subtly smooth, but the other shot a quick glance sideways, his underlip jutting.
“Who says I’m a liar?” he questioned aggressively.
“Nobody I heard.” The Saint was as suave as velvet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Intuccio standing in the door of the kitchen, watching them in silence, but he had no aversion to an audience. He put a hand in his pocket. “All the same, I’ve got a double saw that wonders whether you can.”