He was getting nowhere at an impressively steady pace.
“Do you get headaches?” Peggy Warden asked, several minutes later.
“Headaches?” The Saint came back a few thousand miles with a start.
“Yes. You keep your brain working so hard.”
He grinned, and pushed away his plate and lighted a cigarette.
“It’s a bad habit,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
The gray eyes were still inquiring.
“Are you really taking a professional interest?”
“You heard what Condor said. If I get any brilliant ideas, he wants to hear them.”
“But why should you be interested?”