“I don’t know what sort of a triumph you’d call it,” he said. “But this time I’ve really got the goods on you, my friend.”
The Saint looked puzzled.
“The goods, Alvin?”
“Yeah,” Kearney said grimly. “Although frankly I never thought I’d get you for common blackmail.”
Simon realized that he had been unduly despondent. He didn’t think for a moment that Rick the Barber would have gone to the police, but what he had overlooked was that the impostor was not likely to stop with one victim.
“A lot of people seem to be going nuts these days,” he remarked almost cheerfully. “Who says I’m blackmailing him now?”
“Vincent Maxted.”
“The meat packer?”
“You ought to know,” Kearney said. “You claim to be able to prove that he made a nice piece of change during the war out of black-market steaks.”
Simon lighted a cigarette.