"More rooms up stairs," briskly said the old man; he nimbly darted up an old wooden staircase, that creaked under him. Mechanically Jones followed. There were two rooms on the upper and only storey; one of moderate size; the other, a little larger than the back parlour.
"Good shop," began the old man, reckoning on his fingers, "ca-pital shop; neat parlour—very neat; upper storey, two rooms; one splendid; cosy bed-room; rent of the whole, only thirty-five pounds a-year—only thirty-five pounds a-year!"
The repetition was uttered impressively.
"Thank you—much obliged to you," began Richard Jones, wishing himself fairly out of the place; "but you see—"
"Stop a bit," eagerly interrupted the old man, catching Jones by the button-hole, and fixing him, as the 'Ancient Mariner' fixed the wedding guest, with his glittering eye, "stop a bit; you take the house, keep shop, parlour, and bedroom for yourself and family—plenty; furnish front room, let it at five shillings a week; fifty-two weeks in the year; five times two, ten—put down naught, carry one; five times five, twenty-five, and one, twenty-six—two hundred and sixty shillings, make thirteen pounds; take thirteen pounds from thirty-five—"
"Law bless you, Sir!" hastily interrupted Jones, getting frightened at the practical landlord view the one-eyed and one-sided-nosed old man seemed to take of his presence in the house. "Law bless you, Sir! it's all a mistake, every bit of it."
"A mistake!" interrupted the old man, his voice rising shrill and loud.
"A mistake! five times two, ten—"
"Well, but I couldn't think of such a thing," in his turn interrupted
Jones. "I—"
"Well then, say thirty pound," pertinaciously resumed the old man; "take thirteen from thirty—"
"No, I can't then—really, I can't," desperately exclaimed Jones; "on my word I can't."