He spoke in a quiet voice to Durell. “If someone is determined enough, clever enough, and angry enough, and he wants to kill you, he shall succeed. Somewhere. Somehow. Sometime. The victim is doomed. He is a walking corpse.” Durell sat still in the soft wind that blew over the lake and listened to his death sentence. “Is there someone like that?” the blind man asked after a small silence. “Yes, sir.” “And he is determined?” “Yes.” “Clever?” “Very. Kronin is the very best they have.” “I do not know this Kronin. Is he angry?” “He wants me out of it. I can’t get out.” The old man’s name was Colonel Mignon. Looking at him, Durell felt as if he were considering a myth, a living fable. He had come a long way to see him.
