It was with high good-humour that the pair sat down to the deal table, and proceeded to fall-to on the pork pie. Morris retailed the discovery of the lid, and the Great Vance was pleased to applaud by beating on the table with his fork in true music-hall style.
‘That’s the dodge,’ he cried. ‘I always said a water-butt was what you wanted for this business.’
‘Of course,’ said Morris, thinking this a favourable opportunity to prepare his brother, ‘of course you must stay on in this place till I give the word; I’ll give out that uncle is resting in the New Forest. It would not do for both of us to appear in London; we could never conceal the absence of the old man.’
John’s jaw dropped.
‘O, come!’ he cried. ‘You can stay in this hole yourself. I won’t.’
The colour came into Morris’s cheeks. He saw that he must win his brother at any cost.
‘You must please remember, Johnny,’ he said, ‘the amount of the tontine. If I succeed, we shall have each fifty thousand to place to our bank account; ay, and nearer sixty.’
‘But if you fail,’ returned John, ‘what then? What’ll be the colour of our bank account in that case?’
‘I will pay all expenses,’ said Morris, with an inward struggle; ‘you shall lose nothing.’
‘Well,’ said John, with a laugh, ‘if the ex-s are yours, and half-profits mine, I don’t mind remaining here for a couple of days.’