“‘And how much it is; And the little less, and what miles away!’”
“Yes, yes—what a memory you’ve got, Ben.
“I forget these confounded jingles. Where were we? You’ve put me off with your rhymes.”
“The empty locker,” suggested Fishpingle, sipping his wine.
“Just so. A very few hundreds added to my shrinking income would make such an immense difference to this dear lad’s home-coming.”
Fishpingle picked his way warily.
“The income, for instance, from twenty thousand pounds.”
“Tchah! Why do you jaw about specific sums? Twenty thousand pounds! Is such a sum as that likely to drop from heaven on me! Talk practical politics, you old ass. Can we scrape up a few tenners and fivers?”
“You can put your hand on twenty thousand pounds, Sir Geoffrey.”
Sir Geoffrey lay back in his chair, staring at his butler.