The girl's hand touched his arm, and she smiled.
"When you went after him I was wondering what I'd lost," she said.
The Saint's quick smile answered her; and he returned to a scrutiny of his acquisition. The shabby man was recovering himself slowly, and Simon thought it best to leave him to himself for a while. By the time they had reached Mark Lane Station he seemed to have become comparatively normal, and Simon stood up and jerked a thumb.
"C'mon, uncle. This is as far as I go."
The shabby man shook his head weakly.
"Really, I don't —"
"Step out," said the Saint.
The man obeyed listlessly; and Simon took his arm and piloted him towards the exit. They turned into a convenient cafe and found a deserted corner.
"I took a bit of trouble to pull you out of a mess, uncle, and the story of your life is the least you can give me in return."
"Are you a reporter?" asked the other wearily.