They walked a few steps, and then she said, sharply, “Would you come with me?”
Simon did not hesitate for an instant.
“I’d love to,” he said easily, and she said nothing more until he left her at the
Provençal.
Before climbing into white shirt and tuxedo, the Saint packed a bag. He was travelling very light, but he still preferred not to leave his preparations for a getaway to the last minute. And he had decided that the getaway should take place that night. He did not want to delay it any longer. He was a little tired of Juan-les-Pins, and, even in that brief time, more than a little tired of the part he had to play.
But when he collected Mrs Nussberg again there was no hint of that in his manner. Her dyed hair had been freshly waved into desperate undulations, and the powder was crusted thickly on her face and arms. Her hands and neck were a blaze of precious stones.
He saw her hard painted lips smile for the first time.
“You are very kind,” she said, as they walked down to the Casino.
The Saint shook his head.
“This gala business is a wonderful racket,” he murmured lightly. “The same place, the same food, the same music, the same floor show — but they charge you double and let out a few colored balloons, and everyone thinks they’re having a swell time.”