Having ensconced himself into his lodgings, Simon retrieved a copy of the Post and settled into a large, chair with a slightly contented sigh. But no sooner had he made himself comfortable than a knock came at his door. Lifting himself from the seated position with a sigh, Simon opened the door to reveal a delivery boy.
“Telegram for Mr. Templar,” he said predictably.
Simon identified himself as the recipient and tipped the lad generously before shooing him away. Closing the door, he examined the communique. It was from an old acquaintance of his who had made a fair sum of money chronicling the occasional tale of The Saint’s exploits.
Business advisor Charles Hillarram fleeced clients stop. Lives in Pierre Hotel stop. Up your alley stop. L.C.
A smile curled the corner of the Saint’...Read More