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"Must you be vulgar?" said his wife.

"Yes," said Berry, "I must. Futility always arouses what baser instincts I have. As a boy I was corporally reproved for my definition of algebra. I said it was like----"

A shriek of protest smothered the impious revival just in time. Still, what Berry had said was much to the point. With nothing whatever to go on, what could we do?

"If you think there's a chance," said Piers, "I'll come in blind."

"So will we all," said Adèle. "If you think there's a chance."

"Which means that you don't," said Jonah, and got to his feet.

"There's always a chance," said Berry. "Plaza might lose his memory and stop me to ask who he was. And he might do it near Dieppe. So let's take the villa--in case. It's only nine miles from the town, so we shan't need a car. I can walk in and get the bread--easily. And if it's wet I can always take the string-bag."

Jill was shaking with laughter, and one of Adèle's slim hands went up to her mouth.

"I fully admit," said Jonah, "the force of the point you make." He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "On the face of it, it is futile for us to make any attempt to recover the jewels or to bring the thieves to book. Quite futile. And futility breaks the heart.... If I press you enough, you'll stay--I'm sure of that. You'll do it 'to make me pleasure,' as Casca would say. But that's no use to me. You've got to work hard--as I shall. Stand out in the rain and go hungry and lose your sleep. And you won't do that--no one would--when you know in your hearts that it's futile... beating the air. And so I must prove that it won't be beating the air... that what we do won't be futile, but ordinary common sense."