"A weakness of mine, I'm afraid," Uttershaw admitted. "But at least it's a little more distinctive than the usual conversational cliches." He sighed deprecatingly. "I was thinking of taking you up on that invitation to lunch."
Simon realised that he was hungry himself, for the prisoner's breakfast with which he had been regaled at some unholy hour had not been planned to induce the vigorous vibrations to which his constitution was accustomed.
"Why don't you?" he said.
They went into the bright paneled dining room and ordered Little Necks and sole veronique, with sherry for a preface. Simon sipped his glass of pale gold Cedro and remarked: "This is a little more restful than the love-nest we met in."
"Domestic happiness, thou only bliss of Paradise that has survived the Fall," said Uttershaw ironically. "I very seldom let my business connections lure me into their private lives, but sometimes one just can't avoid it. I was sorry for you. If you'll forgive my saying it, your method of getting to see him was clever enough in theory, but if you'd known more about Milton Ourley you'd never have tried it that way."
The Saint passed over the assumption that he had engineered his introduction from the start, and appreciated Uttershaw's tacit and friendly elimination of a number of unnecessary pretenses.
"Do you think he could have talked if he'd wanted to?"
"If he'd wanted to. Yes. I don't doubt it. He seems to be getting the iridium he needs, and he certainly isn't getting it from me. And I'm not trying to sound like a great king of commerce, but the fact remains that there just isn't any other legitimate way of getting it that I wouldn't know about."
Simon considered the statement for a few moments while he watched a waiter threading his way through the tables towards them, brandishing platters of clams with the legerdemain of some phenomenal cymbalist. He gazed down at them appreciatively as they settled in front of him — seven beautiful bivalves, glistening with their own juicy freshness. The Saint felt very pleased about clams, in a generous and cosmic way. He was glad he had invented them.
He did careful things with horseradish, tabasco, and lemon.