“Divide what Gemp says by five, subtract half, and the remainder may be correct, ma’am.”
“Then it isn’t true?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Oh, what a tiresome, close old bank-safe of a man you are, Mr Thickens! Just like your cupboard in the bank.”
“Where I want to be, Mrs Pinet, if you will get me the book.”
“Oh, well, come inside, and I’ll get it for you directly. But it isn’t neighbourly when I wanted to ask you about fifty pounds I wish to put away.”
He followed her quickly into the parlour occupied by the manager, and then glanced sharply round.
“Have you consulted him—Mr Hallam?” he said sharply.
“No, of course not. I have always taken your advice so far, Mr Thickens. I don’t talk about my bit of money to all my friends.”
“Quite right,” he said—“quite right. Fifty pounds, did you say?”