The old man nodded approvingly.
“You always was a one for thinkin’ things out. I’ve known lots of ’em who would never have thought of jumping it. Connor, and that pig Massey, they’d have walked right on to it. You didn’t damage anything?” he demanded suddenly and fiercely. “I heard somethin’ break, an’ I was hoping that it was you.”
Jimmy thought of the marble statue, and remembered that it had looked valuable.
“Nothing at all,” he lied easily, and the old man’s tense look relaxed.
The pair sat on opposite sides of the fireplace, neither speaking for fully ten minutes; then Jimmy leant forward.
“Reale,” he said quietly, “how much are you worth?”
In no manner disturbed by this leading question, but rather indicating a lively satisfaction, the other replied instantly—
“Two millions an’ a bit over, Jimmy. I’ve got the figures in my head. Reckonin’ furniture and the things in this house at their proper value, two millions, and forty-seven thousand and forty-three pounds—floatin’, Jimmy, absolute cash, the same as you might put your hand in your pocket an’ spend—a million an’ three-quarters exact.”
He leant back in his chair with a triumphant grin and watched his visitor.
Jimmy had taken a cigarette from his pocket and was lighting it, looking at the slowly burning match reflectively.