"Perhaps," she said silkily, "you will not be in a position to come again. So you might save the stamp."
"That's all right," said the Saint easily. "I shouldn't have stamped the letter."
He stood up and picked up his hat, which he brushed carefully with his sleeve. She made no move to delay him.
At the door he turned for his parting shot.
"Just for information," he said, "is there going to be any trouble about my leaving this time?"
"No," she said quietly. "Not just now."
He smiled.
"Something else arranged, I suppose. Not machine guns, I hope. And no more poisoned milk. I don't want you to let yourself down by repeating yourself too often, you know."
"You won't be in suspense for long," she said.
"I'm glad to hear it," said the Saint, with intense earnestness. "Well, bye-bye, old dear."