"Why shouldn't I?" she returned. "I wanted to see you. And you turn out to be such an unusual kind of traveling salesman."
"There are so few things you can sell these days, a guy has to have a side line."
"You write very cleverly. I enjoyed your story. But when you were asking me questions, you weren't being honest with me."
"I told you everything I could."
"And I still told you everything I knew. Why do you think I was — what do you call it? — holding out on you?"
"I told you everything I knew, tovarich. Even if you did place me for a salesman."
"You didn't ask me about Blatt, Weinbach, and Maris."
"Only about Blatt."
He had to say that, but she could still make him feel wrong. Her air of straightforwardness was so unwavering that it turned the interrogator into the suspect. He had tried every device and approach in a rather fabulous repertoire the night before, and hadn't even scratched the surface of her. He knew exactly why even Lieutenant Kinglake might have left her alone, without any political pressure. Take her into court, and she could have made any public prosecutor feel that he was the prisoner who was being tried. It was the most flawlessly consistent stonewall act that Simon Templar had ever seen.
"You could have asked me about the others," she said. "If I could have told you anything, I would have. I'd like to help you."