"I don't know how it strikes any of you bat-eyed brigands," he said, "but I've got a feeling that this is the best break we've had yet. After all, a lot of weird things happen in this world of sin, but you don't usually find girls in overalls riding on smugglers' trucks with a cargo of contraband stagger soup."
"You do when you hold 'em up," said Peter stoically.
"She didn't know I was going to hold it up, you fathead. So she's here for some other reason. Well, she might be just a girl friend of the Menace here, but I don't think it's likely. Take a look at her, and then look at him. Of course if she turned out to be blind and deaf and half-witted—"
The driver growled viciously, and received another painful prod from Hoppy Uniatz's gun for his trouble.
"Well, if she isn't?" said Peter.
"Then she's something a hell of a lot more important. She's one of nobs — or she knows 'em pretty well. It'd fit in, wouldn't it? Remember that last consignment we hijacked? All silk dresses and lace and crepe-de-Chine underwhatsits. I always thought there might be a woman in it; and if this is her—"
"She," said Peter helpfully.
The Saint laughed.
"The hell with your grammar," he said. "Let's get going — it'd spoil everything if somebody else came scooting over this blasted heath just now."
He turned away and picked the girl up in his arms like a baby — her body was still limp and lifeless, and it would save a certain amount of trouble if she remained in that state for a little while. So long as Hoppy hadn't struck hard enough for her to be unconscious too long…