There was nothing much in that, except as an omen.
It made no difference to the Saint's intention of breakfasting at the Ritz as Mr. Joseph M. Halliday, of Boston, Mass. In fact, it was to allow for exactly that event that he had left his flat earlier than he need have done.It was nothing new in Simon Templar's young life to be shadowed by large men in very plain clothes, and such minor persecutions had long since ceased to bother him.
He left the sleuth near Marble Arch, and took a taxi to the Ritz with the comfortable certainty of being temporarily lost to the ken of the police; and the pair of hornrimmed glasses which he donned in the cab effectively completed his simplest disguise.
He arrived on the stroke of ten, entering behind the breakfast tray. Taking advantage of the presence of the waiter, he kissed Jill like a dutiful husband, and sat down feeling that the day was well begun.
As soon as they were alone—
"The self-control of the police," said the Saint hurriedly, "is really remarkable."
The girl maintained her gravity with an effort.
"Did he go quietly?" she asked.
"To say that he went like a lamb," answered the Saint, "means nothing at all. He would have made a lamb look like a hungry tiger outside a butcher's shop on early-closing day."
He retailed the part of his ruse at which she had not been audience, and had his reward in the way she sat back and looked at him.