"Couldn't I?" The man laughed. "My dear, you're too innocent!" He went back to the decanter. "Well, I respect your innocence. I respect it enormously. We won't say any more about — unpleasant things like that. I will be philanthropical. Rickaway will lose. And there are no strings to it. I give way to a charming and courageous lady."
She sprang up.
"Mr. Lesbon! Do you mean that — will you really —"
"My dear, I will," pronounced Mr. Lesbon thickly. "I will present your courage with the reward that it deserves. Of course," he added, "if you feel very grateful — after Rickaway has lost — and if you would like to come to a little supper party — I should be delighted. I should feel honoured. Now, if you weren't doing anything after the races on Saturday —"
The girl looked up into his face.
"I should love to come," she said huskily. "I think you're the kindest man I've ever known. I'll be on the course tomorrow, and if you still think you'd like to see me again —"
"My dear, nothing in the world could please me more." Lesbon put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her towards the door. "Now you run along home and forget all about it. I'm only too happy to be able to help such a charming lady."
Patricia Holm walked round the block in which Mr. Lesbon's flat was situated, and found Simon Templar waiting patiently at the wheel of his car. She stepped in beside him, and they whirled down into the line of traffic that was crawling towards Marble Arch.
"How d'you like Vincent?" asked the Saint, and Patricia shivered.
"If I'd known what he was like at close quarters, I'd never have gone," she said. "He's got hot slimy hands, and the way he looks at you… But I think I did the job well."