“Everyone here,” he said, not without a trace of awe, “is under arrest.”
The stooped scholarly figure of the Secretary of State followed him in, and Sue Inverest flung herself into her father’s arms.
Simon Templar prudently reached for the Chianti bottle and refilled his glass.
7
Most of what Sue Inverest did not know had been told her while the official limousine was still on its way to the Embassy.
“But I still don’t know how you got there,” she said, “like... like the posse coming over the hill in the last reel of a western.”
“My dear,” Mr Inverest said mildly, “surely even you learned enough Latin in school to know that homo sequendum means ‘man who must be followed’?”
She gave a shaky half-laugh.
“I might have thought of that, but the Saint was so convincing with his translation... And anyway, how did you know who to follow?”
“Whom,” said Mr Inverest.
“You remember that tag about for the public good?” Simon said. “I told your father he’d like it better in Latin. That’s pro bono publico. I could only hope he’d be fast enough to turn the bono into Buono.”
“Fortunately I’m not quite the imbecile that I’m sometimes called,” Inverest said. “Once I had that clue, I went straight to the top. That was the Minister of the Interior himself who was in charge of the raid.”
“And you remember,” Simon added, “how I threw in that bit about Buono’s unseemly interest in a reward which he hadn’t reported — for the simple reason that it was never offered. I was banking on that to bother Tony enough so that he’d send for Buono, which would lead the posse straight to the right place.”
The girl cuddled her father’s arm, but her gray eyes were on the Saint.
“I know you’re not really rich, Daddy,” she said. “But he ought to have some reward.”
Simon grinned.
“I’ll settle for the privilege of buying you a real dinner. And then maybe dancing with you till dawn. And then if there’s anything still owing, I’d better leave it on deposit. I’m liable to need it one of these days,” said the Saint.