She stood in the doorway, with Ginny a little behind her.
Freddie looked up at her sidelong from under his lowered brows.
“Go away,” he said coldly. “Get out.”
And then, almost without a pause or a transition, that short-lived quality in his voice was only an uncertain memory.
“Run along,” he said. “Run along and finish dressing. Simon and I want to have a little talk. Nothing’s the matter. We just had a little scare, but it’s all taken care of. I’ll tell you presently. Now be nice children and go away and don’t make a fuss. You, too, Esther.”
Reluctantly, hesitantly, his harem melted away.
Simon strolled leisurely across to a side table and lighted himself a cigarette as Freddie closed the door. He genuinely wasn’t perturbed, and he couldn’t look as if he was.
“Well,” Freddie said finally, “how does it look now?”
His voice was surprisingly negative, and the Saint had to make a lightning adjustment to respond to it.
He said, “It makes you look like quite a bad risk. So do you mind if I collect for today and tomorrow? Two Gs, Freddie. It’d be sort of comforting.”