There were ethereal emphases and question marks in just the right places.
“Exactly.”
“Even quite a private matter?... Such as... if I were interested in buying this ranch?”
“Even that,” said the Saint cheerfully. “But as a matter of fact, the ranch isn’t on the market.”
“Of course not. No. But I could be permitted to wonder whether a sufficiently attractive price — let us say, perhaps, double Mr Valmon’s offer...”
Simon looked at him unhelpfully.
The visitor sat on the arm of a chair and dabbed his pink forehead with a large silk handkerchief.
“Perhaps I should make a fuller explanation. I’ve always wanted to own a place of this kind. It so happens that I’m a temporary guest of Mr Valmon’s — he used to have business connections with a cousin of mine, who sent me to him with an introduction. I had never met him before. Naturally, I heard about what happened last night. I hate to say it, but I feel that Mr Valmon’s behaviour must have been very bad. And yet of course I have no control over him. But I do feel that his attitude absolves me from some of my ordinary obligations as a guest.”
“So that you’re free to go behind his back and bid for a place that he’s interested in?” Simon suggested politely.
“Indeed, no. I don’t see it that way. I feel rather that I’m trying to make some amends, by proxy, for his bad manners.”