The Saint Sees it Through (The Saint Series)
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When the Saint goes for a drink in a New York nightclub—Cookie’s Cellar—he discovers the rather lovely nightclub singer Avalon Dexter; however, he soon meets the less lovely Cookie herself.
Is,” Kay Natello said, in that metallic monotone. “I’m sorry.” She hitched her wrap up once again around her scrawny shoulders, and her hollow eyes took a last deliberate drag at the Saint. “Good night, Mr Templar,” she said. “It was nice meeting you.” “It was nice meeting you,” Simon replied, with the utmost politeness. He crossed to the side table again and half refilled his glass while he was left alone, and turned back to meet Avalon Dexter as the outer door closed and her skirts swished.
Going to keep it with me. We’re having lunch with Zellermann.” “Did you call him?” “He called me again, and I didn’t see how I could get out of it. As a matter of fact, I decided I didn’t want to. So much persistence is starting to intrigue me. And I do want to know more about him. And I don’t think he can do much to me in 21.” “Is that where we’re going?” “Yes. I’ll pick you up at twelve o’clock.” “I’ll put on my silliest hat.” “If you do,” said the Saint, “I’ll be called away in the.
Dr Zellermann, waiting for a hint of the point that must be shown sometime. “Another drink?” asked the doctor. They had another drink, and then Zellermann said, with a thread of connection which was so strained that it sang, “I imagine one of the things you would like is forming theories about current crimes as the newspapers report them. That Foley murder in Brooklyn, for instance, rather intrigues me.” The Saint took a deep pull on his cigarette, and a little pulse began to beat way inside.
One of the privileged upper class. It didn’t help that he found his studies boring and decided it was more fun contemplating ways to circumvent the law. This inspired him to write a novel, and when publishers Ward Lock & Co. offered him a three-book deal on the strength of it, he abandoned his studies to pursue a writing career. When his father learnt of this, he was not impressed, as he considered writers to be “rogues and vagabonds.” Charteris would later recall that “I wanted to be a writer,.
Taking gross chances on the adjective. Dr Zellermann was a lawful MD and a self-announced psychiatrist, but the Saint had no real grounds to insult the quality of his psychiatry. If he had been cornered on it, at that moment, he could only have said that he called Dr Zellermann a phony merely on account of his Park Avenue address, his publicity, and a rough idea of his list of patients, who were almost exclusively recruited from a social stratum which is notorious for lavishing its.