“Okay,” said Reefe.
He stood up and hitched his belt. There was a slight softening of amusement in his dour face.
“I guess I know now why you kept remindin’ me of that feller the Saint,” he said.
Simon looked him in the eyes.
“I guess you do,” he admitted.
They shook hands, and Reefe and Morland started towards their car.
Jean Morland linked her arm with the Saint’s as he rose and followed. “I’ll wait for you,” she said.
“Don’t wait too long,” he answered lightly. “It may be some time, and you’re going to need some rest.”
They took two or three steps more, quite slowly.
“It’s dreadful to think that Hank might have killed you,” she said, and the Saint chuckled.