"Was it so? but then, d'ye see, Bev, we were a good two miles nearer my honored Roman when I mentioned the matter before, and trees sometimes have ears, consequently I—er—kept it down a bit, my dear Bev, I kept it down a bit; but the fact remains that it's five, and I won't be sure but that there's an odd hundred or two hanging on to it somewhere, beside."
"You led your father to believe it was only one thousand, then?"
"I did, Bev; you see money seems to make him so infernally Roman, and I've been going the pace a bit these last six months. There's another thousand to Jerningham, but he can wait, then there's six hundred to my tailor, deuce take him!"
"Six hundred!" exclaimed Barnabas, aghast.
"Though I won't swear it isn't seven."
"To be sure he is a very excellent tailor," Barnabas added.
"Gad, yes! and the fellow knows it! Then, let's see, there's another three hundred and fifty to the coach builders, how much does that make, Bev?"
"Six thousand, nine hundred and fifty pounds!"
"So much—deuce take it! And that's not all, you know."
"Not?"