"When the party's just starting?" said the Saint, He, too, knew they were going. A kick, a frown, a shake of the head. These had made the boys jittery.
"Well, Saint," Sam said. "You know how it is. Just back from a long trip. We were kinda thinkin' of girls of our own. Course, I'll have to get one for Joe, here, but still—" He nodded at Avalon. "Thought we had something there — uh, Miss. But seems she's staked out. So we'll blow."
More handshakes, and they were gone.
Kay Natello came over to greet them, and in that voice like a nutmeg grater on tin cans, asked, "What'll it be?"
She didn't seem to be anxious to cut up old touchés with Simon, so he played it her way.
"Old Foresters all around. Doubles," he added, remembering the strength of drinks at Cookie's.
"Now," the Saint said when Kay had gone. "Tell me about Dr. Zellermann."
"What is there to tell?"
Prather didn't seem uncomfortable. There was, in his mind, nothing to tell. At least, he gave that impression.
"He's a psychiatrist," he went on. "A good one, maybe. Any rate, he gets good prices."