"There was a proper inquiry. An assistant commissioner of police isn't dismissed in disgrace for nothing. And is that an excuse for anything you do, anyway?"
"It satisfies me."
Her voice held a depth of passion that for a moment turned even Simon Templar into a sober listener. She had never flinched from his sardonically bantering stare, and now she met it more defiantly than ever. She went on, in that low, passionate voice: "The shock killed him. You know it could have been nothing else but that. And he died denying the charge—"
"So you think you've a right to take vengeance on the department for him?"
"They condemned him for a thing he'd never done. And the mud sticks to me as well, still, a year after his death. So I'll give them something to condemn me for."
The Saint looked at her.
"And what about that boy over in the States?" he asked quietly, and saw her start.
"What do you know about him?" she asked.
The Saint shrugged.
"It's surprising what a lot of odd things I know," he answered. "I think we may talk some more on that subject one day — Jill. Some day when you've forgotten this nonsense, and the Angels of Doom have grown their tails."