Mr. Newdick scratched his chin. The notion of manna had passed into his cosmogony. It fell from Heaven. It was real. Miracles happened. The world was a brighter, rosier place.
"One of your remarks, of course," he said, "is somewhat uninformed. As a matter of fact, we are doing quite a lot of business. We have orders, negotiations, tenders, contracts…" The eloquent movement of one hand, temporarily released from massaging his chin, indicated a whole field of industry of which the uninitiated were in ignorance. "However," he said, "if your proposition were attractive enough, it would be worth hearing."
Simon nodded.
"Well, old bean, who do I put it to?"
"You may put it to me, if you like," said Mr. Newdick. "I am Oscar Newdick."
"I see. But what about the other partners, Oscar, old sprout?"
Mr. Newdick waved his hand.
"They are largely figureheads," he explained. "A few friends, with very small interests — just enough to meet the technical requirements of a limited company. The concern really belongs to me."
Simon beamed.
"Splendid!" he said. "Jolly good! Well, well, well, dear old Newdick, what d'you think it's worth?"