Jerome, his mouth full of bread, threw a suggestion into the air.
"Shoot the dog."
De Rothan laughed, sat on the edge of the table, and reached for Jerome's bottle of schnapps.
"You are a wise fellow, Jerome, always loading up against emergencies. But you are a little too rough in your methods. Strategy does it. I shall have my eyes on Mr. Benham."
"A snap of the fingers for him, then," said the Frenchman with a grin.
Durrell brooded, staring at the fire.
"The boat will not come ashore till to-morrow after dark, and then only if we give the signal."
"Yes; you will have to pack us in the attics, and get that fellow out of the house."
"Early."
"And take a ramble to the quarry."