‘Do you mean you actually shoved the geezer over the side?’ He gazed in admiration. ‘Well,’ I replied modestly, ‘not shoved exactly, but I was what you might call instrumental in his downfall … and pretty far down it was too!’ I added with some satisfaction. ‘Blimey!’ he exclaimed again after I had supplied the details. ‘Now I’ve got a murderer for a master and a hit-cat for a mate. Not many dogs can say that!’ He regarded me with rare respect. It didn’t last of course. Nevertheless, it is always gratifying to be accorded one’s proper due, however brief. Thus I smiled benignly and reminded him I had been plotting retaliation ever since the Coarse One had so rudely slung me off the window sill at the auberge. He looked puzzled. ‘But you didn’t know all that chasing stuff was going to happen, did you? I mean, you were kipping most of the morning on the table in the bar.’ ‘Yes, but at one point the hound Clemenceau came wagging in (fortunately with a flat battery) and started to jabber something abut playing games with F.O.
