Simon sighed imperceptibly. He knew that look. As a man who had rather a weakness for the best hotels, it was sometimes a little tiresome to him.
“You guessed it,” he said.
The clerk smiled with the utmost courtesy.
“I do not know if we have a room that would suit you.”
“I’m not too hard to please.”
“Excuse me,” said the clerk.
He retired to an inner office. In a few minutes he came back, accompanied by an older and more authoritative personage.
“Good afternoon, Mr Templar,” said the personage cordially, “I am the manager. It is nice of you to come to us. But you do not have a reservation.”
“No,” said the Saint patiently. “But I wasn’t expecting any trouble. I’m still not expecting any. Not any at all. I’m on vacation.”
“Of course.”