“Shall you bury it?” whispered Jason again, in a voice as sly and furtive as a wicked schoolboy.

“I don’t want you to have it any longer, anyhow,” said Wolf laughing.

Jason put his hand to his mouth and chuckled.

“By the way,” Wolf went on, “I’ve never yet read a line of your poetry, Mr. Otter.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he stared at the man in bewildered amazement. It was as if a mask had fallen from his face, revealing a totally different human countenance.

“Will you really read something? Will you really?”