“You should have come to the house,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”
“I thought I’d take a stroll around first,” said the Saint. “It was such a lovely night, and I knew there’d be lots of interesting things to see.”
“What made you so sure of that?”
“It sort of dawned on me gradually. But I suppose I was really quite sure when I picked up a chunk of cinnabar this morning, about half a mile from here, on the Circle Y.”
Neumann and Eberhardt had drawn back unobtrusively towards the shadows. They were still on watch there, but they had left Simon with Valmon and Julius grouped under the dim spotlight like the principals in a theatrical stage setting.
Valmon and Julius looked at each other, and Julius moved in a little from his self-effacing place a little behind Valmon.
Simon beamed at him encouragingly.
“Of course,” he admitted, “I’d started to get a few ideas before that. I suppose I really got the first one when I happened to find out that Dr Ludwig Julius, the great mining expert and one of dear Adolf’s Deputy Kommissars of Supply, was taking a personal trip to Arizona for a nice healthy vacation.”
“How did you know that?” Julius asked gently.
“My spies,” said the Saint, “are everywhere. It sounds awfully funny, I know, but it’s quite true. All kinds of people tell me things — people I’ve never met and probably never will meet. They just think I might be interested and do something. That’s what happens when you get to be such a notorious character. You must try another purge in your Department, Ludwig — that is, if you ever have the chance.”