He went on thinking without interrupting his examination. She was alive anyway — her pulse was quick but regular, and she was breathing evenly. There was no blood on her head, and her skull seemed to be intact.
"That cap probably helped," he said. "But it only shows you how careful you have to be when you're patting people on the bean, Hoppy."
Mr Uniatz swallowed.
"Chees, boss—"
"It's all right," Peter consoled him. "You wouldn't have missed anything if you had brained her. If there's going to be any more fun he'll have it."
The Saint straightened up and turned to the driver of the lorry, who was standing woodenly behind him with his ribs aching from the steady pressure of a Betsy which in spite of Mr Uniatz's chivalrous distress had never shifted its position.
"Who is she?" Simon asked.
The driver glowered at him sullenly.
"I don't know."
"What happened — did you find her growing on a tree?"