"I can say the same for yours."
She regarded him with a certain grim amusement.
"I suppose," she said, "it wouldn't be any use pleading that I shot Weald to save trouble? You can see that he was drawing when I fired. And saving the life of a valuable detective… Would it be any use?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," answered the Saint, in the same tone. "You see, I've got a gun myself, and there wasn't really any call for you to butt in. You just had to say 'Oi!'—and I would have done the work. Besides, Harry would just love to be a witness for the Crown — wouldn't you, Harry?"
He saw the venomous darkening of Donnell's eyes, and laughed.
"I'm sure you would, Harry — being the four-flushing skunk you are."
He had not moved from the table, and his right hand, holding Donnell's revolver, still rested loosely on his knee.
"You aren't going to be troublesome, Templar?" asked the girl gently, and Simon shrugged.
"You don't get me, Jill. Personally, I'm never troublesome." He held her eyes. "Others may be," he said.
The silence after he spoke was significant; and the girl listened on. And she also heard, outside, the sound of heavy hurrying footsteps on the stairs.