"Looking for a taxi, sir?"
"Palamedes," Saint-Germain whispered, "dont do that. You could have given me a heart attack."
"Hardly. You knew i was there, didnt you?"
Saint-Germain nodded. "I smelled you."
"So you're saying i smell?"
"You smell of cloves. Ah, but it is good to see you, old friend," the Frenchman said, using a Persian dialect that had gone extinct a century earlier.