“There’s something up, over there, that’s hostile to me and to my life. They seem to have nothing else to do, these King’s Barton people, but plot with one another against someone. Good Lord! No wonder they finished off Redfern among them all! I can see I’m going to have to defend myself. And easily could I do it, too, if it weren’t for mother. Damn! It’s mother being up there that’s the rub; so dependent on Urquhart. If it weren’t for her, I’d laugh at the whole lot of them. I’ve got my job at the school, thanks to Darnley. What a man Darnley is, compared with these madmen! They’ve worried him a lot though. Anyone can see that.”

This second layer of his consciousness seemed so crowded with thoughts and surmises that he found himself standing stock-still outside a little greengrocer’s shop, the better to get things clear.

A small ornament, perched in the lighted window, among the oranges and lettuces, made him recall the idol in his pocket; and from Mukalog his mind rushed back to Jason.