Quercy hurried out after his men. He was back in a few minutes, shaking his head.
“For once you were mistaken, Monsieur le Saint. It is not on him.”
Simon shrugged.
“Well, I guess he got rid of it.”
“It is not very important.”
Simon Templar agreed. What was important, to him, was that in those few minutes he had been able to transfer the negotiable contents of the late Georges Orival’s safe to his own pockets. He caught the girl’s eye, but she said nothing, and he knew that her sense of humor was coming back.
Amsterdam: The angel’s eye
1
The Hollandia is one of the best hotels in Amsterdam. The best hotels everywhere exercise a proper discretion over the guests whom they admit to their distinguished accommodations. The clerk at the Hollandia read the name that Simon Templar had filled in on the form in front of him, and his brow wrinkled as he looked up.
“Mr Templar,” he said, “are you by any chance the Saint?”