"Just an idea," explained the Saint. "They sometimes take me in the seat of the pants like that. This is rather a beauty."
He swept her off boisterously to the promised celebrations without telling her what the idea was that had made him spring like a young ram with loud foreign oaths; but at seven o'clock punctually he found time to telephone the Park Lane Hotel.
"I'm going to do what the man in the taxi would do, Mr. Lucek," he said.
"Well, Mr. Tombs, that's splendid news," responded Benny."I'll expect you at one. By the way, how much will you be taking?"
"I'm afraid I can only manage to — um — raise three hundred pounds. That will buy fifteen hundred pounds' worth, won't it?"
"I'll make it two thousand pounds' worth to you, Mr. Tombs," said Benny generously. "I'll have it all ready for you when you come."
Mr. Tombs presented himself at five minutes to one, and although he wore the same suit of clothes as he had worn the previous day, there was a festive air about him to which a brand-new pair of white kid gloves and a carnation in his button-hole colourfully contributed.
"I handed in my resignation at the office this morning," he said. "And I hope I never see the place again."
Benny was congratulatory but apologetic.
"I'm afraid we shall have to postpone our lunch," he said. "I've been investigating a lady who also answered my advertisement — a poor old widow living up in Derbyshire. Her husband deserted her twenty years ago; and her only son, who's been keeping her ever since, was killed in a motor accident yesterday. It seems as if she needs a fairy godfather quickly, and I'm going to dash up to Derbyshire and see what I can do."