As Pat began to speak, the Picaroon's head swivelled back and forth between her and Comstock. His steel grey eyes were no longer menacing, Comstock was pleased to note.
"How about," Pat suggested, "how about stealing...."
"One of the R.A.'s cars," Comstock interjected.
"Just what I was going to say. And then with the aid of the car, he can...."
"Go to the fountainhead, beard The Grandfather in his retreat."
"And make sure that his most fantastic and fabulous crime will become known to every living creature in our world by...."
"Snipping off The Grandfather's beard!" Comstock finished. Then he waited, his teeth pressed together on his bottom lip.
"But," the Picaroon said, in a rather bemused fashion, "that would be blasphemy."
"But think of the effrontery of it!" Pat said, leaning forward hopefully, paying no attention to the bonds that held her.
"Think of the shock of such an action! Every law-abiding citizen would rise up in wrath. Then the hue and cry would be such that no longer would the Picaroon work long hard hours through the night without ever getting the fame which is his due." Comstock could hardly believe that even this lunatic would fall for what they were suggesting.