“Yes ... but I gave no name, 600,000 is what’ll fetch ’em.”
Once more Charlbury nodded. He had heard that figure.
“Make it eight,” he said briefly.
Then there was a slight pause.
Charlbury spoke again: “What’s the way to tackle him—about the Paddenham Site, I mean?”
“I should put it straight out,” said Charlie. “When we’ve got it clear, between ourselves, I should ring him up—this very evening—and make an appointment for to-morrow.”
“There’s nothing to get clear,” said Charlbury. “It’s a straightforward proposition. He will bite, or he won’t bite.”
“No,” said Terrard slowly. “But what I was thinking of was, how it ought to be put.”
Charlbury was all decision.
“I tell you it’s straightforward. Put it that it’s a lock-up: that it’s a lock-up for one that can afford it, but precious few can. Tell him it’s not a lock-up for a lot of them together, because it’s got to be kept close and tight, and that one man’s got to bide his time and take his opportunity. Don’t ’ide anything from ’im. Tell him it’s been empty the best part o’ twenty years—right in the ’eart o’ London—and tell ’im plain it may be five more—that there’s Gawd knows ’ow much in it—at least, that’s my judgment, honest. I’d do it myself if I could ...” and he sighed. “I did try to persuade old Vere,” he shook his head sadly. “But he died—the old fool died.”