“Because as long as you’re wandering around the town, the killer isn’t likely to bump into you. At the hotel, he knows where to find you. And I like your head where it is. I don’t want it cut off.”
Her eyes grew big and round.
“You don’t think it could happen to me?”
“I’ll answer that when I know why it happened to your brother. Meanwhile, don’t take any chances.”
“But remember, I promised to meet that Mr Olivant at five-thirty.”
“I want to be around when you do it. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Her breath broke in a gasp of incredulity.
“You mean you suspect him?”
“Darling,” said the Saint, “this isn’t one of those storybook mysteries, with half a dozen convenient suspects. I’ve known ever since friend Olivant showed up that he had to be a good bet. The only problem still is to find the motive and prove it on him.”
He closed the door gently after her, and turned towards the next cab.