“Why, hullo, Lieutenant,” he murmured genially. “What are you doing — rehearsing Romeo and Juliet for the Police Follies?”
Wendel waved to the night and turned back from the window.
“Ah, there you are, Mr Templar. I knew you were here, of course.” His eyes fastened on the purse that swung negligently in Simon’s hand. “This may save us a lot of trouble — excuse me.”
He grabbed the bag away, sprung the catch, and spilled the contents clattering on the dining table.
After a few seconds the Saint said, “Would anyone mind telling me what this is all about?”
“All right,” Wendel said grimly. “Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“You know what I’m talking about. The necklace.”
“The last time I saw it,” Jeannine Roger said, “it was on Lady Offchurch’s neck.”
The detective set his jaw.