“No, I don’t, my son. You don’t understand yet. Can’t you see I’m talking about a pill-box?”
“Oh-h-h!”
“Now don’t you see? I cut a hole in the pudding and slipped the box in, and then made a stopper of the pudding I had cut out, and corked up the hole with the box inside.”
“I begin to see now,” said Murray. “A pill-box full of poison to kill the shark that swallows the poison.”
“I don’t care whether it kills the fish or no as long as I get rid of the stuff.”
“Now you are getting confused again. Why should you try to poison a shark like this? What good would it do—what difference would one shark make out of the thousands which infest the sea?”
“Oh, Franky, what a Dummkopf you are, as the Germans say!”
“Don’t care what the Germans say, and I dare say I am a stupid-head, for I can’t make out what you are driving at.”
“You can’t? Why, I’m going to make the shark take the poison instead of taking it myself.”
“But what poison?”