"Of course not."
"Well!"
Mr. Quarterstone continued to stare at him as if he were something rare and strange. The Saint twisted his hat-brim uncomfortably. Mr. Quarterstone sat back again, shaking his head.
"That's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of," he declared.
"But why?" Simon asked, with not unreasonable surprise.
"My dear fellow, anyone would take you for a professional actor! I've been in the theatrical business all my life — I was on Broadway for ten years, played before the King of England, produced hundreds of shows — and I'd have bet anyone I could pick out a professional actor every time. The way you walked in, the way you sat down, the way you use your hands, even the way you're smoking that cigarette — it's amazing! Are you sure you're not having a little joke?"
"Absolutely."
"May I ask what is your present job?"
"Until a couple of days ago," said the Saint ingenuously, "I was working in a bank. But I'd always wanted to be an actor, so when my uncle died and left me twenty thousand dollars 1 thought it was a good time to start. I think I could play parts like William Powell," he added, looking sophisticated.
Mr. Quarterstone beamed like a cat full of cream.