“To whom?”

“To him⁠ ⁠… to Mukalog.”

Wolf wrinkled his eyebrows and stared intently at him for a moment. “You’ll be altogether happier when you’ve sold that thing to me, Mr. Otter,” he said.

“You’d like to bury him in your garden,” Jason muttered. And then quite unexpectedly he smiled so disarmingly that Wolf once again experienced that wave of affection.

“I expect lots of people wish I were dead,” he added, with a queer chuckle.

“I don’t wish you were dead,” said Wolf, looking into his eyes. “But I wish you would let me throw away that demon!”