De Rothan sat down on the terrace wall, studying Durrell with cynical and amused eyes.
"So they have been frightening you, have they? Poor friend—poor comrade!"
Durrell moved restlessly in his chair. He had foreseen this meeting and had prepared himself for it, yet De Rothan's flippant scorn held him at a disadvantage.
"I have decided to abandon this enterprise——"
"Did they dangle a rope under your nose? Alas, we have not the blood of the martyrs in us! That little black-chinned bully has been here with his tongue and his pistols. He tried his bombast with me, but I had the adder's head under my heel."
Durrell's face twitched irritably.
"I have not been frightened from my purpose. But I see certain things as I did not see them before."
"A convenient conscience, eh!"
"I cannot share your methods."
"Indeed! That overwhelms me."