With one swift hop that was in itself a complete justification of his nickname he heaved the Z-Man to his feet from behind and held him in a gorilla grip. The Z-Man's struggles were as futile as the wrigglings of a fly between the fingers of a small boy. And the Saint retrieved his knife and tested the point on his thumb.
"Hold him just like that, Hoppy," he said grimly, "so that his tummy occupies the centre of the stage. I want to do some surgery of my own."
With a swift movement that made Patricia catch her breath and shut her eyes quickly he thrust the knife deeply and forcefully into the Z-Man's protruding stomach. There was a loud squealing hiss, and the patient deflated like a punctured tire.
"I just wanted to see whether it would make a squashy noise or merely explode," said the Saint placidly. "You can open your eyes, darling. There's no mess on the floor. Mr Vell is mostly composed of air."
With a swift movement he yanked off his victim's hat, wig, glasses and beard.
"Miss Sheila Ireland, I believe," murmured the Saint courteously.
XI
Patricia found her voice first.
"But I thought you told me Sentinel was the Z-Man," she said weakly. "We left Orace to tie him up—"
"I didn't say so," answered the Saint. "I told you that I'd met Comrade Sentinel, and I thought I knew who the Z-Man was. But I wanted you to tell the girls about Comrade Sentinel because I knew she'd remember that he knew about her affair with Raddon, and I knew she'd be scared that he might say something that 'd start me thinking, and I knew she'd get the wind up and feel that she had to do something about it — that is, if my suspicions were right. And I was damn right!"