"But he was coming to your house."
"Other people come to my house," she said, with a dispassionate directness that disclaimed innuendo and defied interrogation.
The Saint blew a careful smoke-ring to bridge another uncomfortable gap; but this time he bowed to a rare dignity that he had seldom met, and would never have looked for in the Blue Goose.
"Did Henry tell you anything about himself?"
"Nothing much that I can remember. Perhaps I didn't pay enough attention. But men tell you so many things. I think he said he'd been working in a defense plant somewhere — I think it was near St Louis."
"Did he say anything about where he was going next, or what his plans were?"
"He said he was going to work in another plant in Mexico. He said he was waiting for a ship to Tampico or Vera Cruz."
"What sort of people was he with?"
"All sorts of people. He drank a lot, and he was very generous. He was — what do you call it? — a Good Time Charlie."
"He had plenty of moula?"