Christopher munched and drank for a minute or two. Then he nodded, with much satisfaction in his manner.
“Very well,” he answered. “I got what I consider a very good price. Sold the whole lot to another Brixton property-owner, got paid, and have brought you the money. All of it—ain’t even taken my costs, my expenses, and my commission out of it—yet.”
“How much did you sell for?” asked Miss Pett.
Christopher pulled his bag to his side and took a bundle of red-taped documents from it.
“You ought to think yourself jolly lucky,” he said, wagging his head admonitorily at his aunt. “I see a lot of the state of the property market, and I can assure you I did uncommonly well for you. I shouldn’t have got what I did if it had been sold by auction. But the man I sold to was a bit keen, ’cause he’s already got adjacent property, and he gave rather more than he would ha’ done in other circumstances. I got,” he continued, consulting the topmost of his papers, “I got, in round figures, three thousand four hundred—to be exact, three thousand four hundred, seventeen, five, eleven.”
“Where’s the money?” demanded Miss Pett.
“It’s here,” answered Christopher, tapping his breast. “In my pocketbook. Notes, big and little—so that we can settle up.”
Miss Pett stretched out her hand.
“Hand it over!” she said.
Christopher gave his aunt a sidelong glance.
“Hadn’t we better reckon up my costs and commission first?” he suggested. “Here’s an account of the costs—the commission, of course, was to be settled between you and me.”
“We’ll settle all that when you’ve handed the money over,” said Miss Pett. “I haven’t counted it yet.”
There was a certain unwillingness in Christopher Pett’s manner as he slowly produced a stout pocketbook and took from it a thick wad of banknotes. He pushed this across to his aunt, with a tiny heap of silver and copper.
“Well, I’m trusting to you, you know,” he said a little doubtfully. “Don’t forget that I’ve done well for you.”
Miss Pett made no answer. She had taken a pair of spectacles from her pocket, and with these perched on the bridge of her sharp nose she proceeded to count the notes, while her nephew alternately sipped at his toddy and stroked his chin, meanwhile eyeing his relative’s proceedings with somewhat rueful looks.
“Three thousand, four hundred and seventeen pounds, five shillings and elevenpence,” and Miss Pett calmly. “And them costs, now, and the expenses—how much do they come to, Chris?”
“Sixty-one, two, nine,” answered Christopher, passing one of his papers across the table with alacrity. “You’ll find it quite right—I did it as cheap as possible for you.”
Miss Pett set her elbow on her heap of banknotes while she examined the statement. That done, she looked over the tops of her spectacles at the expectant Christopher.
“Well, about that commission,” she said. “Of course, you know, Chris, you oughtn’t to charge me what you’d charge other folks. You ought to do it very reasonable indeed for me. What were you thinking of, now?”
“I got the top price,” remarked Christopher reflectively. “I got you quite four hundred more than the market price. How would—how would five percent be, now?”
Miss Pett threw up the gay turban with a toss of surprise.
“Five percent!” she ejaculated. “Christopher Pett!—whatever are you talking about? Why, that ’ud be a hundred and seventy pound! Eh, dear!—nothing of the sort—it ’ud be as good as robbery. I’m astonished at you.”
“Well, how much, then?” growled Christopher. “Hang it all!—don’t be close with your own nephew.”
“I’ll give you a hundred pounds—to include the costs,” said Miss Pett firmly. “Not a penny more—but,” she added, bending forward and nodding her head towards that half of the cottage wherein Mallalieu slumbered so heavily, “I’ll give you something to boot—an opportunity of feathering your nest out of—him!”
Christopher’s face, which had clouded heavily, lightened somewhat at this, and he too glanced at the door.
“Will it be worth it?” he asked doubtfully. “What is there to be got out of him if he’s flying from justice? He’ll carry naught—and he can’t get at anything that he has, either.”
Miss Pett gave vent to a queer, dry chuckle; the sound of her laughter always made her nephew think of the clicking of machinery that badly wanted oiling.
“He’s heaps o’ money on him!” she whispered. “After he dropped off tonight I went through his pockets. We’ve only got to keep a tight hold on him to get as much as ever we like! So—put your hundred in your pocket, and we’ll see about the other affair tomorrow.”
“Oh, well, of course, in that case!” said Christopher. He picked up the banknote which his aunt pushed towards him and slipped it into his purse. “We shall have to play on his fears a bit, you know,” he remarked.
“I think we shall be equal to it—between us,” answered Miss Pett drily. “Them big, flabby men’s easy frightened.”
Mallalieu was certainly frightened when he woke suddenly next morning to find Miss Pett standing at the side of his bed. He glared at her for one instant of wild alarm and started up on his pillows. Miss Pett laid one of her claw-like hands on his shoulder.
“Don’t alarm yourself, mister,” she said. “All’s safe, and here’s something that’ll do you good—a cup of nice hot coffee—real Mocha, to which the late Kitely was partial—with a drop o’rum in it. Drink it—and you shall have your breakfast in half an hour. It’s past nine o’clock.”
“I must have slept very sound,” said Mallalieu, following his gaoler’s orders. “You say all’s safe? Naught heard or seen?”
“All’s safe, all’s serene,” replied Miss Pett. “And you’re in luck’s way, for there’s my nephew Christopher arrived from London, to help me about settling my affairs and removing my effects from this place, and he’s a lawyer and’ll give you good advice.”
Mallalieu growled a little. He had seen Mr. Christopher Pett and he was inclined to be doubtful of him.
“Is he to be trusted?” he muttered. “I
