“No, no.”
Mr. Gann and Mr. Rice both turned upon her; Captain Cairns, choking, took her by the arm and led her to the recess of the furthest window. There her partners expostulated with her, declaring that they could not plunge in this manner. One ship was all they were good for.
“Very well,” she immediately replied; “then I’ll do the other two ships on my own.”
“And let us stand or fall on number one?”
“Yes, unless you think better of it. Don’t, please, suppose I’m trying to squeeze you out. At equal stakes we were to have a third share, weren’t we? Now divide it into twenty-sevenths. You see how simple it is, don’t you, Captain Cairns? Instead of one-third each of these gentlemen will have four and a half twenty-sevenths—or whatever the correct fraction is. That can easily be settled at leisure. But, please, let me get back to Mr. Jones now. I want to strike while the iron’s hot.”
Then she returned to the table, and with a slightly ostentatious flourish produced a cheque book.
“Now, Mr. Jones, I’m ready to write you a cheque for a ten per cent. deposit. Is the deal going through?”
The deal went through. Perhaps because of his naturally timid nature, perhaps because of the obvious reluctance shown by the lady’s partners, Mr. Jones said “Done.”
“And done,” Emmie echoed brightly.
She seemed mildly excited and no more. As she bowed to the company and withdrew, she still had that air of a well-preserved middle-aged lady conducting some little affair of ordinary well-to-do life—such as taking a furnished house or buying a motor-car.