“Ah!” he exclaimed after consulting a little note book which he took from a drawer—the code which Jim always used. “Another from Jim! He’s closing at seven thousand eight hundred, the deeds to be signed to-morrow. The story he has told is that the land is to be used for building purposes.”
“I suppose the surveyor you sent out with him has fixed the exact spot?”
“Of course. They did that four days ago. It was a difficult task to accomplish without attracting attention, but Jim succeeded. He always does!” added the Baronet with a grin.
“I understood that the Mount was nearly covered by the Jews’ cemetery,” remarked the German.
“So it is. But the plots we want are fortunately rocky places, where burial is impossible. I think it a big stroke of luck—don’t you?” he added with a self-satisfied laugh.
“Certainly,” was the German’s response in his deep, guttural voice, “but what of Mullet? Have you heard anything of him lately?”
“Nothing. He’s abroad somewhere. I believe Jim and he have quarrelled. I only hope they won’t get to serious disagreement—if they do it will be very unpleasant for us all. ‘Red Mullet’ hasn’t acted straight in this affair at all. He fell in love with Griffin’s girl, I think—and became heroic—like the chicken-hearted fool he is.”
“You haven’t any fear of him turning upon you, I suppose?”
“Fear of him!” laughed Sir Felix heartily.
“Why, my dear Erich, I could put him away for ten years, to-morrow, if I wished, and fortunately he knows it. No. He’ll keep a very still tongue, never fear. He still draws his money from Paris, which shows that he doesn’t intend mischief.”