The Saint mumbled something about seeing a man about a dog, and was able to get out alone. There was a telephone booth near the entrance. He called the Algonquin and asked for Avalon.
Miss Dexter was not there at the moment, as he knew; but could they take a message?
"When is she likely to get it?" he asked.
"I couldn't say, sir, but she's been calling in about every half hour. She seems to be expecting a message. Is this Mr. Templar?"
The Saint held his breath for a moment, and took a lightning decision.
"Yes."
"I know she's asked whether you called. Can she call you back?"
The Saint said: "I'm afraid she can't reach me, but tell her I'll see her tomorrow."
Nothing could have been more true than that, even if she didn't understand it; and somehow it made him feel better with himself. It meant something to know that she had hoped he would find a way to get in touch with her — no matter why. She would not know that he had been back to the Algonquin since his "arrest," for that had been taken care of; and she must continue to believe that he was locked up somewhere downtown. But she had asked...
Both of them had become hooked to an unwinding chain that was going somewhere on its own. Only it happened to be the same chain for both of them. It seemed as if the hand of destiny was in that — Simon didn't want to think any more, just then, about what that destiny might be.