“Quite right, Jeekie, but if you would talk a little less and let me talk a little more, we might get on better.”
“I henceforth silent, Major,” and lifting his empty tumbler Jeekie looked through it as if it were a telescope, a hint that Alan ignored.
“Jeekie, you infernal old fool, I want money.”
“Yes, Major, I understand, Major. Forgive me for breaking conspiracy of silence, but if £500 in Savings Bank any use, very much at your service, Major; also £20 more extracted last night from terror of wealthy Jew who fear fetish.”
“Jeekie, you old donkey, I don’t want your £500; I want a great deal more, £50,000 or £500,000. Tell me how to get it.”
“City best place, Major. But you chuck City, too much honest man, great mistake to be honest in this terrestrial sphere. Often notice that in West Africa.”
“Perhaps, Jeekie, but I have done with the City. As you would say, for me it is ‘wipe out, finish.’”
“Yes, Major, too much pickpocket, too much dirt. Bottom always drop out of bucket shop at last. I understand, end in police court and severe magistrate, or perhaps even ‘Gentlemen of Jury’; etcetera.”
“Well, Jeekie, then what remains? Now last night when you told us that amazing yarn of yours, you said something about a mountain full of gold, and houses full of gold, among your people. Jeekie, do you think——” and he paused, looking at him.
Jeekie rolled his black eyes round the room and in a fit of absentmindedness helped himself to some more whisky.