“Oh! ah!” exclaimed Mr. Podgson, in his thick voice: “I remember! My very particular and intimate friend, Mr. Alderman Tripes, assures me in his communication that you have a famous project on the tappy——”
Mr. Podgson meant tapis—but could not precisely achieve the correct pronunciation.
“And that project I shall have much pleasure in submitting to you, sir,” added Mr. Styles, proceeding to unfold the large roll of papers which he had brought with him.
“Well—I don’t mind—that is, to obleege you, I’ll just look over them,” said Mr. Podgson, in an indifferent—careless way. “But,” he added, glancing at the elegant watch which he drew with affected negligence from his waistcoat pocket, “I’ve got an appointment at a quarter to eleven—and I must be punctual to the rendy-woo.”
Mr. Styles assured the great man that he would not detain him a moment beyond the time named for the rendez-vous; and, spreading his plans and maps upon the table, the small speculator began to explain his objects and views to the large capitalist.
“Who’s the engineer?” enquired the latter: then, looking at the corner of the plan, and perceiving the name, he cried, “Oh! Dummerley—eh? Well—he’s a good man—a very good man! I was talking to Lord Noodleton the other day about him—Lord Noodleton and me are intimate friends, you know—very intimate——”
“His lordship has reason to be proud of your friendship, sir,” observed Mr. Styles, adroitly availing himself of the opportunity to pay a compliment.
“Hem! well—Noodleton does seem grateful,” said, the Railway Lion, glancing complacently at one of his boots. “But, about this spec of yours, Mr. Styles? Shall you have a good list of Provisional Committee?”
“First-rate, sir—especially if you will condescend to head it,” returned the small speculator with a bow to the great one.
“Well—we shall see!” exclaimed Mr. Podgson. “But first as to the probability of success? Let me just make a calculation or two—nothing is done without calculations; and I’m rayther quick at figures. Now, your capital is £8,000,000 in 400,000 shares. Good! Deposit, £2 2s. per share. Good again! But about the expenses and receipts—the outlay and the incomings, on which we may reckon with certainty? Let me see—twice two’s four—and twice four’s eight—and nine times nine’s eighty one—and eleven times eleven’s a hundred and twenty one—that gives us five hundred thousand there—then there’s two hundred thousand here——Well!” cried the great man, suddenly interrupting himself in the midst of calculations which, though they were as unintelligible as the Chinese language to Mr. Styles, it is to be hoped were a trifle more comprehensive to the gentleman who was making them in a musing, half-whispering tone, and counting mysteriously on his fingers at the same time:—“well!” he cried, suddenly desisting from the arithmetical process with the satisfied air of a man who had arrived at a conviction by means of the most subtle considerations,—“well, I do think it will succeed, Mr. Styles—and I——I——”