Wally turned.
“Oh, did you see this?”
“I was looking at it just before you nearly frightened me to death by appearing so unexpectedly.”
“Freddie Rooke sold it to me fourteen years ago.”
“Fourteen years ago!”
“Next July,” added Wally. “I gave him five shillings for it.”
“Five shillings! The little brute!” cried Jill indignantly “It must have been all the money you had in the world!”
“A trifle more, as a matter of fact. All the money I had in the world was three-and-six. But by a merciful dispensation of Providence the curate had called that morning and left a money-box for subscriptions to the village organ-fund … It’s wonderful what you can do with a turn for crime and the small blade of a pocket-knife! I don’t think I have ever made money quicker!” He looked at the photograph again. “Not that it seemed quick at the moment. I died at least a dozen agonizing deaths in the few minutes I was operating. Have you ever noticed how slowly time goes when you are coaxing a shilling and a sixpence out of somebody’s money-box? Centuries! But I was forgetting. Of course you’ve had no experience.”
“You poor thing!”
“It was worth it.”