The Squire shook his head. “They will never give anything like so much as that.”
“I think they will, sir, if the affair is judiciously managed. How can they refuse in the face of a mortgage for six thousand pounds?”
“There’s something in that, certainly.”
“Then there are the villas—yet unbuilt it is true—but the plans of which are already drawn, and the foundations of some of which are already laid. You will require to be liberally remunerated for your disappointment and outlay in respect of them.”
“I see it all now. Splendid idea that of the villas.”
“Considering the matter in all its bearings, nine thousand pounds may be regarded as a very moderate sum.”
“I won’t ask a penny less.”
“With it you will be able to clear off both the mortgage and the loan of two thousand, and will then have a thousand left for your expenses in connection with the villas.”
The Squire rubbed his hands. “I wish all my speculations had turned out as successful as this one,” he said. “This one I owe to you, Bristow. You have done me a service that I can never forget.”
Tom rose to go. “Mrs. McDermott quite well, sir?” he said, with the most innocent air in the world.