“And some blood,� said Fay, laying his coat on the top of a dusty show-case within which was a collection of Japanese and Javanese daggers with wicked-looking points and yellow ivory handles. “Some blood,� he added, turning and reaching in his pocket.
Clanson nodded his gray head. He stared at the front of the shop, then at Fay’s hand, which came out with the ten-pound notes Sir Richard had given to him.
“Two and six off the pound,� he said craftily.
“Then,� said Fay, peeling off one half the notes, “I’ll keep a few! Funny, too, these happen to be good.�
Clanson blinked and counted the sheath. “Five,â€� he said, dryly. “That’s makes six pun and five bobs—off. How’ll you have it, Edward? Let’s see, wasn’t it Edward? You had so many.â€�
Fay watched Clanson and the candle vanish into the gloom of the shop. Minutes passed wherein he could have obtained a collection of daggers and jade paper-knives. Clanson was opening his strong-box. The old rogue, who once said, “If there were no receivers there would be no thieves,� evidently thought the Bank of England notes were stolen property. Fay had no other way in all London to change them.
Besides, it would be possible for the Yard to trail him by the numbers on the notes.
Clanson came back, deposited the candle on the showcase near Fay’s tweed coat, and started counting out newly minted sovereigns with fingers that were loth to see them go.
He finished the count with two one-pound Bank of Ireland notes and a stack of bright shillings.
“There’s forty-three, fifteen,� he said. “All nice new money. Times was when you brought me more than that, Edward.�