"What have you learned?"
"Nothing," the Saint said, "that is of any specific use to us, but the wind is full of straws. I'm watching to see how they fall."
"I trust you know the difference between straws and hay," Hamilton said somewhat darkly, and rang off.
Simon picked up a paper on the way out of the hotel, and found the death of Gamaliel Bradford Foley recorded in two paragraphs on an inside page.
DEATH LOOKS IN ON TOP SEAMEN'S UNION OFFICIAL
Gamaliel Bradford Foley, secretary of the Seamen's Union. Local 978 (AFL). was found stabbed to death in his Brooklyn apartment early this morning by police. A telephone tip — "You'll recognize him by the knife he's wearing, in his back" — sent patrol car 12 to the scene. Officers J. R. McCutcheon and I. P. Wright found the corpse in the apartment bedroom, with a butcher knife in its back. An arrest is expected any moment. Inspector Fernack told reporters today.
It wasn't a smile that twisted the Saint's sensitive mouth as the taxi took him to Avalon's place — it was a grimace of skepticism. "An arrest is expected any moment." He shrugged. The police certainly knew no more than himself — not as much, as a matter of fact. He knew of the connection, however nebulous, between Foley and Dr. Zellermann. How could the police expect an arrest?
Ah, well. That was the sort of thing reporters put on copy paper. City editors had to be considered, too. If you, as a reporter, phoned your desk with a story, you wanted something to lead into a follow-up yarn, and "arrest expected" certainly indicated more to come.
Avalon met him in a housecoat of greenish blue that in a strange and not understandable way was completely right for her. She turned up her face and he kissed her on the mouth, that mouth so full of promise. They said nothing.
She led him to a divan, where he sat wordless with her beside him. Her tawny hair was shot with glints of gold. Her eyes, he noted in passing, were dark, yet alight. He thought of a title by Dale Jennings: "Chaos Has Dark Eyes."