"Of course. So I manage to be seen when they come down, and will be here at the curb with them when you drive up. I'll be telling them I can't go with them, but you'll allow me to be persuaded, provided you come along. Then we all go off in your cab." She gave him a quick kiss. "I should fall for a ten percenter yet. Everything happens to me."
She was out and clicking along the sidewalk on slim heels. The Saint watched her for a moment and wondered. What a partner she would make! She had divined his scheme of action, and with no prompting. She had known, without words, what his plan was. All he had had to do was sketch the bare outlines, and she had filled in the details.
"Drive around the block," he told the driver.
It was on the third circumnavigation that the Saint saw Avalon and the two seamen at the curb in front of the apartment house. He amused himself with the idea that these were the only live persons he had seen on his rounds: all others had been members of the Bronx nobility walking their dogs.
"Stop there," he commanded, and the cab driver drew up with a satisfying squeal of rubber.
"Darling," the Saint said to Avalon, "I was afraid you'd have gone. I'm horribly late."
"Aren't you, just?" she said. "I was about to take off. Well, since you're here— By the way, these are Joe Hyman and Sam Jeffries. Joe is the one with the glint."
Simon shook hands.
"Simon Simplon, I," he said. "Hello, kids. Where away?"
Avalon looked dubious.