"That's right, miss." The Saint's voice was hoarse and innocent. "Strite from Aldgate. 'Ow did yer guess?"
"Oh, I'm getting so I can spot all the accents."
"Well now!" said the Saint admiringly.
"This your first time here?"
"Yus, miss."
"When did you get to New York?"
"Just got in larst night."
"Well, you didn't take long to find us. Do you have any friends here?"
"No, miss..."
The Saint was just saying it when a face caught his eye through the blue haze. The man was alone now in a booth which a couple of other seamen had just left, and as he shifted his seat and looked vacantly around the room the Saint saw him clearly and recognised him.