“I keep being amazed by the things I know,” he said. “It’s a little startling to be credited with clairvoyance all of a sudden. The embarrassing thing is that I don’t really deserve it. I assure you, Alvin, this is the first I’ve heard about Maxted’s illegal butchery.”
“Is that so?” Kearney was unimpressed. “Then I guess you’d figured he’d just be scared enough to pay up rather than go through an investigation. It doesn’t make any difference. You made the threat anyhow, and he’ll be able to identify your voice.”
“My voice? On the telephone?” Simon scoffed.
“That’s for your lawyer to fight about. It’s good enough for me to hold you. Let’s go, Saint. I’ve got a nice cozy room reserved for you at headquarters.”
Simon thought for a few moments.
“Okay,” he said at last. “If you want to stick your neck out I suppose I can’t stop you. Do you mind if I throw a few things in a bag?”
“Make it snappy,” Kearney said.
He followed Simon into the bedroom. The Saint pulled out a suitcase and opened it. He took out a crumpled piece of paper, glanced at it, and gave a guilty start. Rather clumsily, he tried to get rid of it under the bed. “What’s that?” Kearney snapped.
“Nothing,” said the Saint unconvincingly. “Just an old bill.”
“Let me see it.”