The Saint vs Scotland Yard (The Holy Terror)

'Are you sure?'

'Positive.'

'Not one tiny little doubt about it?'

'Not one.'

'Then we can start this minute.'

She stared.

'What do you mean?' she asked.

The Saint loosened his belt and pointed downwards. Even then, she didn't understand.

'Remember how I found Bertie? He was halfway into the Lovedew's wardrobe trunk. We had a short but merry scrap. And then he went on in. Well, during the tumult and the shouting, and the general excitement, in the course of which Bertie soaked up one of the juiciest K.O.s I've ever distrib­uted—'

He broke off and the girl turned round in amazed perplex­ity.

From somewhere on the Berengaria had pealed out the wild and frantic shriek of an irreparably outraged camel collapsing under the last intolerable straw.

Patricia turned again, her face blank with bewilderment.

'What on earth was that?' she asked.

The Saint smiled seraphically.

'That was the death-cry of old Pimply-face. They've just opened her trunk and discovered Bertie. And he has no trousers on. We can begin our travels right now,' said the Saint.