His eyes were on Avalon.
Her glance skimmed the room, and she saw Zellermann. She checked for the barest instant — it was so slight that it could have made no impression on anyone else. But the Saint was watching, and he saw it. And then she was still smiling, but her vivacity was skilled and watchful. Or so it seemed to him.
"Oh, company," she said, and flopped down on the sofa where Hogan and Natello were ensconced, and began chattering brightly and trivially to Hogan about night clubs and songs and bands.
Zellermann poured two drinks behind the bar, choosing the best bottles, and brought them out. He handed one to Cookie on his way, and carried the other over to Avalon.
"Since we have to be guests together," he said ingratiatingly, "couldn't we stop feuding and forgive each other?"
Avalon had to look up at him because he was on the arm of the sofa next to her.
"I'm being framed," she announced, very brightly. She dropped her voice after the general statement, but the Saint was still listening. She said: "I'll stop feuding and forgive you if you'll just get off my arm."
She went on bibbering to Hogan about musical trivia.
Simon Templar seized the opportunity to slip behind the bar, single out a bottle of Peter Dawson, and pour himself a nightcap that would last.
When he looked for Zellermann again, the doctor was standing beside Cookie with his attentive and invariable smile.