"Nothing, Algernon. Nothing at all. Hoppy and I are just a couple of humble philosophers looking for pearls of knowledge. By the way, is your name Algernon?"
"Wot's my name got to do with you?"
"It would help us to talk about you, Algernon. We can't just point at you all the time — it looks so rude. And then there's the blonde you didn't introduce us to. We want to know who she was, so we can give the vicar her phone number. What's her name?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" snarled the driver belligerently.
Simon nodded with unaltered cordiality.
"You're asking as many questions as I am, Algernon," he remarked. "Which isn't what I brought you here for. But I don't mind letting you into the secret. I would like to know all these things. Go on — have a cigarette."
As the man's mouth opened for another retort the Saint flipped a cigarette neatly into it. The driver choked and snatched it out furiously. The Saint kindled his lighter. He held it out, and his cool blue eyes met the driver's reddening gaze over the flame. There was no hint of a threat in them, no offer of a challenge, nothing but the same lazy glimmer of half-humorous expectancy as they had held before, and yet once again they baffled the driver's wrath with a nonchalance that his brain was not capable of understanding. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and bent his head sulkily to accept the light.
Mr Uniatz, reclining in an abandoned attitude on the settee, had been taking advantage of being temporarily relieved of his duties to sluice his parched throat with the contents of the bottle he had brought in with him. Now after having remained for some minutes with his head tilted back and the bottle upended towards the ceiling he came reluctantly to the conclusion that no more liquid was flowing into the desert and simultaneously returned to a sense of his responsibilities.
"Lemme give him a rubdown, boss," he suggested. "He'll come t'ru fast enough."
Simon glanced at him thoughtfully.