“Nonsense, man! Nobody goes into the Gazette just now—it will be time enough when the general crash comes. Out with your cheque-book, and write me an order for four and twenty thousand. Confound fractions! In these days one can afford to be liberal.”
“I haven’t got it,” said Sawley. “You have no idea how bad our trade has been of late, for nobody seems to think of dying. I have not sold a gross of coffins this fortnight. But I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you five thousand down in cash, and ten thousand in shares; further I can’t go.”
“Now, Mr. Sawley,” said I, “I may be blamed by worldly-minded persons for what I am going to do; but I am a man of principle, and feel deeply for the situation of your amiable wife and family. I bear no malice, though it is quite clear that you intended to make me the sufferer. Pay me fifteen thousand over the counter, and we cry quits for ever.”
“Won’t you take the Camlachie Cemetery shares? They are sure to go up.”
“No!”
“Twelve hundred Cowcaddens Water, with an issue of new stock next week?”
“Not if they disseminated the Gauges!”
“A thousand Ramshorn Gas—four per cent. guaranteed until the act?”
“Not if they promised twenty, and melted down the sun in their retort!”
“Blawweary Iron? Best spec. going.”