“You ain’t just whistling ‘Dixie.’ ”
“And now, the Outraged Husband has the floor. For a long time, and I quote, he has suspected that this Abandoned Woman is up to just this sort of thing. Here, at long last, is pictorial evidence to convince the most skeptical judge. The fact that it involves you, Bill, is unfortunate, but—”
“That’s just what he said.” The sergeant’s bitter voice took it up. “ ‘I hate to mix you up in something like this, soldier, but it’s already cost me more than I can afford to get the goods on her.’ ”
“Luella has withdrawn to the bedroom, weeping,” supplied the Saint.
“She did a runout, all right. Well, by that time I knew I’d been had. It’s been three years since I saw my wife and the little guy; I couldn’t start off with something like this, could I? So the next move was up to me. I asked him how much it would take to keep the detectives going till he got some other evidence.”
“Which amount,” Simon observed, “by a strange coincidence, was exactly the sum Luella had been prepared to accept as a down payment on a house.”
“It was a smooth act,” agreed the veteran miserably.
“So you paid him the money, the ‘detective’ handed you an exposed negative, and — exit one sergeant.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about these things,” observed the soldier, a thin edge of his earlier truculence creeping back into his voice. “Just who the hell are you?”
“My name,” said the Saint, “is Simon Templar.”