"If you do," said the Saint, "I'll be called away in the middle of lunch and leave you with him."
They were on time to the minute, but when Simon asked for the table he was told that Zellermann was already waiting for them.
The doctor stood up as they threaded a way between tables to his. Simon noted with some satisfaction that Zellermann's lips were still considerably swollen, although the fact would not have been so obvious to anyone who was not acquainted with the medicine man's mouth in its normal state.
He looked very much the Park Avenue psychiatrist — tall, leonine, carelessly but faultlessly dressed, with one of those fat smiles that somehow reminded the Saint of fresh shrimps.
"My dear Mr. Templar. And Miss Dexter. So glad you could manage the time. Won't you sit down?"
They did, and he did.
Dr. Zellermann displayed as much charm as a bee tree has honey.
"Miss Dexter, I feel that I must apologise for the other night. I am inclined to forget that universal adjustment to my psychological patterns has not yet been made."
"Don't let it worry you," Avalon said. "You paid for it."
A slight flush tinted the doctor's face as he looked at the Saint.