‘But you didn’t go to an island,’ said the Savage, breaking a long silence.

The Controller smiled. ‘That’s how I paid. By choosing to serve happiness. Other people’s—not mine. It’s lucky,’ he added, after a pause, ‘that there are such a lot of islands in the world. I don’t know what we should do without them. Put you all in the lethal chamber, I suppose. By the way, Mr. Watson, would you like a tropical climate? The Marquesas, for example; or Samoa? Or something rather more bracing?’

Helmholtz rose from his pneumatic chair. ‘I should like a thoroughly bad climate,’ he answered. ‘I believe one would write better if the climate were bad. If there were a lot of wind and storms, for example …’

The Controller nodded his approbation. ‘I like your spirit, Mr. Watson. I like it very much indeed. As much as I officially disapprove of it.’ He smiled. ‘What about the Falkland Islands?’

‘Yes, I think that will do,’ Helmholtz answered. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go and see how poor Bernard’s getting on.’


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