He finished his egg, and was drawing the marmalade towards him when he noticed that she was still looking at him puzzledly.

"Now you'll be thinking I'm rude," said Simon easily. "I ought to have noticed that you weren't being attended to. The service is very bad here, don't you think?"

He banged the table with his knife, and presently Tope came to answer.

"The lady wants her breakfast," said the Saint, "Jump to it again, Basher, and keep on jumping until further notice."

The door closed behind the man, and Simon began to clothe a slice of toast with a thick layer of butter.

"And may one ask," he murmured, "what brings you to this benighted spot at such a benighted time of year?"

His words seemed to bring her back to earth with a jerk. She started, and flushed; and there was a perceptible pause before she found her voice.

"Couldn't one ask the same thing about you?" she countered.

"One could," admitted the Saint genially. "If you must know, I shall be strenuously occupied for the next few days with the business of being Professor Rameses Smith."

"The famous charlatan, humbug, and imitation humorist?" she suggested.

Simon regarded her delightedly.

"None other," he said. "How did you ever guess?"

She frowned.

"You were so obviously that sort."

"True," said the Saint, unabashed. "But in my spare time I am also a detective."

He was watching her closely, and he saw her go pale. Her hands suddenly stopped playing with the fork which she had picked up and with which she had been toying nervously. She sat bolt upright in her chair, absolutely motionless, and for the space of several seconds she seemed even to have stopped breathing.