"Only to be sure that you understand your position."
"All right then. So I committed a crime. I burgled your office. For that matter, I burgled the late Mr. Foley's apartment too — and his murder intrigues me just as much as you. So what?"
Dr. Zellermann turned his head and glanced across the room. He made an imperious gesture with a crooking finger.
The Saint followed his gaze and saw two men in inconspicuous blue suits at a far table detach themselves from the handles of coffee cups. One of them pushed something small and black under the table. Both rose and came towards Dr. Zellermann's table. They had that deadpan, slightly bored expression which has become an occupational characteristic of plainclothes men.
There was no need for them to show their badges to convince the Saint, but they did.
"You heard everything?" Dr. Zellermann asked.
The shorter of the two, who had a diagonal scar on his square chin, nodded.
Simon ducked his head and looked under the table. He saw a small microphone from which a wire ran down the inside of one of the legs of the table and disappeared under the rug. The Saint straightened and wagged an admiring head.
"That, my dear doctor, is most amusing. Here I thought that I was talking privately, and it would be your word against mine in any consequent legal name-calling. It simply didn't occur to me that you'd — er — holler copper."
Dr. Zellermann paid no attention to Simon. He spoke to Scar-chin.