“What’s the trouble? Terms?”
“Busy, old man; busy.”
“That’s all rot. You’re just the man I want, and I don’t know where to find another if you turn us down.”
“Turn you down! Wouldn’t do it. Matter of fact, I am making you a present by refusing. ’Cause I can put you on to a fine proposition straight away.”
“You can?”
“Yes, and fix details ac dum.”
“Well, let’s have it,” said Eastlake a shade warily.
Sefton Bulmore cast a suspicious eye round the office, as though about to expose a secret of awful moment.
“What would you say to Eliphalet Cardomay?”—he had dropped his voice to a penetrating whisper.
“Who?”