"Run along, Ferdy," Cookie was saying with a certain kindness, "and see if you can't think what we ought to do about those pictures in the dining-room."
"Iver since I was born," Hogan challenged the whole world, "a little sailor boy's room has been in the sea. An' what was good enough for Nelson is good enough for me."
He hauled the drapes away from one of the french windows and began fumbling stubbornly with the door latch.
Pairfield the Unconvincible went over to help him, drew the curtains together again, and then slipped timidly out into the garden after him.
"When you get to Shanghai," Zellermann resumed blandly, "as soon as you go ashore, the first thing you'll want is a drink, and after that a girl. During your stay there you'll probably have many drinks and many girls. But you will have no furtive feeling about these girls, as you would have at home. On the contrary, you'll boast about them. Because you are a sailor, and therefore girls are your traditional privilege. Have you been to Shanghai before?"
"Naow. This'll be the fust time." Simon leered at the doctor familiarly. "But don't fergit — yer promised ter gimme some phone numbers."
"I won't forget," Zellermann reassured him, with all the soothing earnestness that he would have tendered to a patient with an AA Dun & Bradstreet. "Although most of them have probably changed since the war. However, I will put you in touch with a friend of mine who'll take good care of you. I know you'll find him, because I heard from him just the other day."
"Knows all the numbers, does 'e?"
"All of them. A very interesting fellow. He used to send me art pieces for my collection. As a matter of fact, you might be able to bring some back for me — he wrote me that he had several things that I wanted, if he could only send them."
The Saint took another drink while he weighed what chance he should take. And he knew that he had to take it. The invitation might not come again.