"With luck," continued Tomlin thoughtfully, "I might sell these chairs for fifty apiece. One is an armchair. Your covers would go nicely on 'em, eh?"
"By Gum, the very thing."
"And you've eight covers?"
"Eight of the best."
Tomlin stared hard at the little man.
"Let's have a look at the covers," he said slowly.
They returned to Soho Square. Somewhat to Quinney's astonishment he found Posy in James's room. Her presence, however, was easily and glibly explained. James, obeying orders, had asked his employer's daughter for some cleaning fluid. She had just brought him some. That was all. Quinney frowned, and signified with a gesture that Posy could "scoot." She did so, after exchanging greetings with Tomlin.
"Dev'lish fine gal!" said Tomlin. "Glad to see she's not above helpin' in the business."
"Don't want her help!" growled Quinney. He turned savagely to James:
"Didn't I tell you not to show them covers to nobody?"