"Just like you had to shoot Gugliemi," said the Saint, almost in a whisper; and Cullis went white to the lips.
Then the mask like features contorted suddenly.
"How did you know that?"
"I am a clairvoyant," said the Saint easily.
"And yet," said Cullis, "the trick is still good enough—"
"Not quite good enough," said the Saint. And there was a sudden swift urgency in his voice, for at that moment he saw death staring him in the face — death in Cullis's pale blue eyes, and death in the twist of Cullis's lips, and death quivering in Cullis's right hand. "Not quite good enough. Because there's one more instalment to my story — and you'd better hear it before you shoot!"
For a moment he thought that Cullis would shoot and chance the consequences, and he loosened his muscles for a desperate leap. And the assistant commissioner's pose slackened by a fraction.
"I'll hear what you have to say. But you needn't expect to get away with another bluff like the one Trelawney put over last night."
"And it was such a good bluff, too," said the Saint sadly, with one eyebrow cocked at the assistant commissioner's bandaged thumb.
And then he smiled into Cullis's eyes.