“Well?” he said.
“I no find anything, sir. Everything all lock up. You come see yourself.”
Simon made the circuit with him. Where there were glass doors they were all metal framed, with sturdy locking handles and bolts in addition. All the windows were screened, and the screen frames fastened on the inside. None of them showed a sign of having been forced or tampered with in any way, and the Saint was a good enough burglar in his own right to know that doors and casements of that type could not have been fastened from outside without leaving a sign that any such thing had been done — particularly by a man who was trying to depart from the premises in a great hurry.
His tour ended back in Lissa’s room, where the rest of the house party was now gathered. He paused in the doorway.
“All right, Angelo,” he said. “You can go back to your beauty sleep... Oh, yes, you could bring me a drink first.”
“I’ve got one for you already,” Freddie called out.
Simon went on in.
“That’s fine.” He stood by the portable bar, which had already been set up for business, and watched Freddie manipulating a bottle. It was a feat which Freddie could apparently perform in any condition short of complete unconsciousness. All things considered, he had really staged quite a comeback. Of course, he had had some sleep. The Saint looked at his watch, and saw that it was a few minutes after four. He said, “I think it’s so nice to get up early and catch the best part of the morning, don’t you?”
“Did you find out anything?” Freddie demanded.
“Not a thing,” said the Saint. “But that might add up to quite something.”