"Start?" repeated Mr. Quarterstone, savouring the word. "Why, whenever you like. Each lesson lasts a full hour, and you can divide them up as you wish. You can start now if you want to. I had an appointment…"
"Oh."
"But it is of no importance, compared with this." Mr. Quarterstone picked up the telephone. "Tell Mr. Urlaub I shall be too busy to see him this afternoon," he told it. He hung up. "The producer," he explained, as he settled back again. "Of course you've heard of him. But he can wait. One day he'll be waiting on your doorstep, my boy." He dismissed Mr. Urlaub, the producer, with a majestic ademan. "What shall we take first — elocution?"
"You know best, Mr. Quarterstone," said the Saint eagerly.
Mr. Quarterstone nodded. If there was anything that could have increased his contentment, it was a pupil who had no doubt that Mr. Quarterstone knew best. He crossed his legs and hooked one thumb in the armhole of his waistcoat.
"Say 'Eee.' "
"Eee."
"Ah."
Simon went on looking at him expectantly.
"Ah," repeated Mr. Quarterstone.