"I hadn't any right to blurt out all my troubles like that," Mercer said sheepishly. "You were damned nice about it."
The Saint grinned.
"I'm a pretty nice guy," he murmured. "And now I've got something to show you. Here are your cards."
He spread the deck out on the table and then he took the horn-rimmed glasses out of his pocket and held them over the cards so that the other two could look through them. He slid the cards under the lenses one by one, face downwards, and turned them over afterwards, and for a little while they stared in breathless silence.
The girl gasped.
"I told you so!"
Mercer's fists clenched.
"By God, if I don't murder those swine—"
She caught his wrist as he almost jumped up from the table.
"Eddie, that won't do you any good."