‘And you?’ he said.
Albert shook his head. ‘Oh, I’m not standing out,’ he said. ‘I don’t like these rough games, but I don’t shirk them when they’re thrust on me. What do we all do?’
Mr Kennedy appeared to have the whole plan clear in his mind.
‘It’s quite simple,’ he said, leaning his chin in his unwounded hand and bending forward, an intent expression in his eyes.
‘Let me shape your career for you!’ quoted Mr Campion brightly. Kennedy reddened angrily and dropped the pose, but he went on doggedly.
‘My idea,’ he said, ‘is that three go down to dinner with the girls. I’m afraid they’ll have to come or the men will smell a rat. They start food, and the other three fellows wait outside the door until one of their laddies is at work on the side table and the other serving the dishes at the big table. At that moment someone knocks a glass on to the flags. That’s the signal. Then the blokes outside the door charge in and seize the carver. One of ’em gets his arm. Another stuffs a hanky in his mouth, and the third stands by to slog him over the head if necessary. Hang it, we can’t go wrong like that. The only thing is they mustn’t suspect us. We’ve got to take them by surprise. It’s the simplest thing going as long as we don’t make a row.’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Campion, standing up with sudden solemnity. ‘A very clever idea, but what we have to ask ourselves is: Is it quite fair? Three men on to one. Come, come, we must remember that we are British, and all that. Perhaps we could each tie a hand behind our backs – or shall I offer them single combat instead?’
Chris Kennedy rose to his feet, and walking across to Mr Campion spoke quietly but vigorously.
Mr Campion blushed.
‘I didn’t think you’d take it like that. You will have it your own way, of course. I shan’t say anything.’