“Add that up,” she directed, “and tell me how much I have.”
He drew a lead pencil from his pocket and quickly added up the total.
“If you have not given any cheques since this was made up,” he said calmly, “you have a credit balance of thirteen thousand, one hundred and eighteen pounds, nine shillings and fourpence. It is very foolish of you to keep so much money on current account. You are absolutely losing about eight pounds a week.”
She smiled.
“It is foolish of me, I suppose,” she admitted, “but I have no one to advise me just now. My father knows no more about money than a child, and I have just had quite a large amount paid to me in cash. I only wish we could get Beatrice to share some of this, Mr. Tavernake.”
He made no remark. To all appearance, he had never heard of her sister. She came and sat down by his side again.
“Will you have me for a partner, Mr. Tavernake?” she whispered.
Then, indeed, for a moment, the impassivity of his features relaxed. He was frankly amazed.
“You cannot mean this,” he declared. “You know nothing about the value of the property, nothing about the affair at all. It is quite impossible.”
“I know what you have told me,” she said. “Is not that enough? You are sure that it will make money and you have just told me how foolish I am to keep so much money in my bank. Very well, then, I give it to you to invest. You must pay me quite a good deal of interest.”