“Four ’undred and fifty thousan’,” said Mr. Harp. He slapped his breast. “I’ve a bankers’ draft in ’ere for a quarter of that—’undred an’ twelve thou—five. I ’ave to keep takin’ it out to believe it’s true.”
“You took the offer, sir?” ventured Bagot.
“Why man alive,” screamed his master, “wot else could I do? You can’t turn away money like that. You ’aven’t the right. I tell you straight, I’m dotty about this place, but ‘Business First’ ’s my motter, an’—an’ it’s pretty nigh ’arf a million,” he concluded absently.
For a moment, blinking, he scribbled figures upon the blotting-pad, his lips moving, his eyes fixed. Then he sat back in his seat and covered his face.
“Two o’clock they come, and give me till four to decide. Immediate possession, in course. I ’ad to take it or leave it by four o’clock. I never ’ad two such hours in all me life. One thing I said. I asked if the buyer was British, for I couldn’t ’ave sold to a foreigner, come wot might. ‘Yes,’ they says, ‘British.’ So I signed her away at this table wiv tears in me eyes. I s’pose we’ll ’ave free seats now an’ do the grand, but shan’t be never so ’appy as we’ve bin ’ere.”
There was a long silence.
“When am I to go, sir?” said Bagot.
“I mentioned you,” said his master. “I didn’t forget. I said as I ’oped you’d stay with me and Mrs. ’Arp, but if you didn’t do that, maybe you’ld like to stay ’ere. I said you was a Groom in a million an’ did the work o’ five, an’ that wot you didn’t know about the place could be counted out. The fellow listened and took a note o’ your name, but ’e said that he ’ad no authority to promise to take you on. ’Owever, the purchaser’s comin’ this afternoon at free. You’ll show ’im round, in course, and it’s Lombard Street to a norange ’e’ll jump at the chance. Mrs. ’Arp and me’ll be out. There ain’t no call for us to stay, an’—an’ we’ld rather not. The deal’s to go through nex’ Monday at twelve o’clock.”
There was nothing more to be said.
Chancery had passed.