“Seemed to me that if one of the three gave the show away to the other two, the compact made by each of the other two came to an end automatically,” from myself.
“The reason I have broken my promise of secrecy is this: that I’m determined we three shall make a united demand for a higher rate of payment. You, of course, have your own uses for the money, I need mine for those humanitarian objects for which my whole life is lived,” from the Reverend.
“Wot ’o,” said Blake. “More coin. Wot ’o. Might ’ave thought o’ that before.”
“I’m with you, sir,” said I. “We’re entitled to a higher rate, I’ll make a memo to that effect.”
“No, no,” said the Reverend. “We can do better than that. We three should have a personal interview with Cloyster and tell him our decision.”
“When?” I asked.
“Now. At once. We are here together, and I see no reason to prevent our arranging the matter within the hour.”
“But he’ll be asleep,” I objected.
“He won’t be asleep much longer.”
“Yus, roust ’im outer bed. That’s wot I say. Wot ’o for more coin.”