"Now that," said the Saint, "is tough luck on you — isn't it, Pinky?"
He walked straight for the door, and the guard stood aside without a word to give him gangway. Only Budd stood his ground, and Simon halted in front of him.
"Getting in my way, Pinky?"
Budd looked at him with narrowed, glittering eyes. They were of a height as they stood, but Budd would have been a couple of inches taller if he had straightened his huge hunched shoulders. His long arms hung loosely at his sides, and the ham-like fists at the end of them were clenched.
"Nope, I'm not getting in your way. But I'll come 'n' find you again soon, Templar. See?"
"Do."
The Saint's hand came flat in the middle of Budd's chest and overbalanced him out of the road. And Simon Templar went through to the door.
A few strides up the street he stopped and laid half a crown on a harmonium.
"Do you know a song called 'A Farewell'?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said the serenader.