He had not taken her into his confidence. That could be done later, by delicate and tactful stages, if he felt like prolonging the liaison. His projected journey to South America had been discussed as a purely business affair, in connection with vague talk of a gigantic loan to the Argentine National Railways.
"It would be a wonderful trip for you," he said. "New places, new people, no end of new entertainments. Never mind about a lot of luggage. You can go home now and pack everything you want to take from London; anything else you need you can buy at Lisbon."
She hesitated for a few moments, and then turned her deep brown eyes back to him.
"All right."
His gaze stripped her in quiet elation, but he did not try to make love to her. There would be plenty of time for that. He put on his hat again and went home to finish the last items of his packing; and when he had gone Kate Allfield picked up his private telephone and called the Saint's apartment.
Peter Quentin answered it, and returned after a few minutes to the bathroom, where the Saint was washing his razor.
"It's today," he said. "The boat train leaves at two-thirty, and Kate is supposed to be meeting Julian for lunch at the Savoy first. Kate," said Peter reflectively, unaware that the same thought had struck Mr. Lamantia, "isn't nearly so nice as Kathleen."
Simon turned off the taps that were filling his bath, threw off his pyjamas, and sank into the warm water.
"You have been seeing quite a lot of her lately, haven't you?" he murmured.
"Only on business," said Peter, with unnecessary clearness. "After she put us on to this stunt of Julian's, and volunteered to do the inside work —"