She laughed quietly, a friendly ripple tinged with a trace of regret.
“I’m sorry, stranger. I liked you so much.”
“I’m rather sorry too — Judith,” said the Saint.
She was still for an instant. Then she leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips.
The gun jabbed again.
“Drive on,” ordered the man. “And keep driving.”
“Won’t you be wanting your car?” murmured the Saint.
A harsher chuckle came from the depths of the dark overcoat.
“We’ve got our own. I rented that one and left it at a garage for you when I had a phone call to say you were hooked. Get moving.”
Simon engaged the gears, and let in the clutch. The girl jumped down from the running board. “Good-bye, stranger!” she cried, and Simon raised one hand in salute, without looking back.