Galen’s dispassionate eyes rested immovably on the Saint’s face.
“And what is your business, Mr Tombs?”
“Just think of me,” said the Saint, “as a guy with a weakness for puzzles, and an incorrigible asker of questions. I have a few more.” He looked at Signora Ravenna again. “Are you positive your husband couldn’t have discussed this deal with anyone?”
“Only with his best friend, who gave him the introduction to Monsieur Galen.”
“And you’re sure you never mentioned it to anybody?”
“Of course not.”
“But as I said this morning, the jokers who waylaid your husband knew he was carrying something valuable, and even knew it was in his briefcase. How do you account for that?”
“I don’t know how crooks like you find out these things,” she flared. “Why don’t you tell us?”
Simon shook his head.
“I suggest,” he said rather forensically, “that those crooks could only have known because you told them — because you hired them to get rid of your husband and bring you back his most negotiable property.”