McMurrough's face showed a shade paler through the dusk.
"What would you have me do?" he muttered.
"Quit this fooling, this plan of a rising, and give him no handle. That, any way."
"But that won't rid us of him?" McMurrough said, in a low voice.
"True for you. And I'll be thinking about that same. If it is to be done, it's best done soon—I'm with you there. He's no footing yet, and if he vanished 'twould be no more than if he'd never come. See the light below? There! It's gone. Well, that way he'd go, and little more talk, if 'twere well plotted."
"But how?" The McMurrough asked nervously.
"I will consider," Asgill answered.
CHAPTER VIII
AN AFTER-DINNER GAME