“Not at all bad,” commended Mr. Bellaby. “You being a local man, it looks much more genuine.”
“In course it do. That’s just the idea.”
“’Pon my word, it’s worth doing. Come to think of it, though, there’s no need for the jewels to leave her possession really. As long as they’re hidden—”
“Why, that’s just where you miss the best part of it!” urged Mr. Dobb. “When that chap runs out of my shop, the jewels is spilled all over the place. If you like, ’e ’alf stuns me too, to prevent persoot. I know one or two safe chaps what can be passing a minute or two after it’s supposed to ’ave ’appened, and they can ’elp gather up the jewels and bathe my fore’ead and so on. ’Ow’s that for a yarn for the ‘Shore’aven Gazette,’ eh? Why, it’s as good as a play in itself.”
Mr. Bellaby, critically examining the project in all its facets, came at last to the warmest agreement as to its merits, and there followed a period of undertones. Then, to demonstrate his zeal in her cause, Miss Delafayne’s manager straightway departed to set the scheme before her, and Mr. Dobb ordered himself a drink, which, before he consumed it, he waved at his reflection in a mirror.
In a short while Mr. Bellaby buoyantly returned. He told Mr. Dobb that Miss Delafayne had been suffering very severely indeed from her artistic temperament when first he had broached the subject to her, but he had left her in the sunniest and most compliant of moods. Mr. Joseph Bindley, too, it seemed, was thoroughly convinced of the merits of the scheme, and had directed that his name, as proprietor of the theatre, should figure in conjunction with Miss Delafayne’s as offerers of the reward.
Things being thus satisfactorily in trim, Mr. Bellaby departed again to compile an imaginative list of the jewellery to be lost by the world-famous actress. This done, he left the catalogue with a printer for immediate attention, and repaired once more to the “Royal William,” where he handed to Mr. Dobb an undistinguished-looking parcel.
Mr. Dobb, returning home a little later with this packet under his arm, was hailed by Mr. Tridge from the latter’s doorway.
“What you got there, ’Orace?” asked Mr. Tridge, curiously.
“A order for a glass shandyleary,” replied Mr. Dobb and passed on with lightsome step.