She looked at Simon with a white face.
"I apologize for what I said to you last night," she said huskily. "If I'd known why you were going to burn Jopley's feet I'd have stayed and helped you."
"The joke is that we didn't really mean to do it," Simon answered regretfully. "But next time—"
"There won't be no muckin' next time," Jopley stated with savage complacency. "Come on."
He grasped the Saint's arm, but Simon was still looking at the girl.
"Maybe you made a mistake about me," he said. "And I'm glad I was wrong about you. Remind me to make up for it when we take that stroll in the moon-light."
His gaze rested on her a moment longer with all the steadying courage he could send her, and then he turned to Peter.
"I ought to have come alone," he said. "But since we're all here we might as well tell Comrade Lasser what he wants to know."
"What for?" Peter demanded indignantly as Simon might have known he would. "If you think we give a damn for that fat slob—"
Lasser pointed at the Saint.