We've all seen those old movies where a couple ofpeople are driving along in a car, and they're rocking thesteering wheel even though the background shows aroad that's straight as an arrow. It's phony—you knowthey're really in a studio being bounced around in a box.
Why don't you write it down?" Well, I listened, and Ihave. And here it is.
Mr. Dick took his finger out of his mouth, on this hint, and stood among the group, with a grave and attentive expression of face.
"Well, go to Graham Associates and see if you can rent it for a month, or another bungalow near by. I don't mind what you pay. Say it's for a rich American, Mr James. Get the keys and pay the rent and say I'll write and confirm. I can telephone them if they want more details." Bond reached into his hip pocket and brought out a thick wad of notes. He handed half of it to Quarrel. "Here's two hundred pounds. That should cover all this. Get in touch if you want some more. You know where I'll be."
Bond could see M's face as he sifted the information. He wondered if the fan was slowly revolving in the ceiling, if M had a pipe in his hand, if the Chief of Staff was listening on the other wire.
When Miss Dartle spoke again, it was through her set teeth, and with a stamp upon the ground.