"Well, sir, that depends on exes. It costs money to do most things in this world, and it'll cost money to make Mr. Gravy stew in his own juice."
"Might cost"--Bindle paused to think--"might cost a matter of twenty or thirty quid to do it in style."
"Right-oh! Out with it, my merry Bindle," cried Tom Little. "Travers and Guggers alone would pay up for a good rag, but it must be top-hole, mind."
"Yes," said Bindle, with a grin; "it 'ud be top-'ole right enough." And Bindle's grin expanded.
"Out with it, man," cried Dick Little. "Don't you see we're aching to hear?"
"Well," said Bindle, "if the exes was all right I might sort o' go down an' see 'ow my nephew, Mr. Gravy, was gettin' on at----"
With a whoop of delight Tom Little sprang up, seized Bindle round the waist, and waltzed him round the room, upsetting three chairs and a small table, and finally depositing him breathless in his chair.
"You're a genius, O Bindle! Dick, we're out of it with the incomparable Bindle."
Dick Little leaned back in his easy chair and gazed admiringly at Bindle, as he pulled with obvious enjoyment at his cigar.
"Course I never been a millionaire, but I dessay I'd get through without disgracin' meself. The only thing that 'ud worry me 'ud be 'avin' about 'alf a gross o' knives an' forks for every meal, an' a dozen glasses. But I'm open to consider anythink that's goin'."
"The only drawback," remarked Little, "would be the absence of the millions."
"That would sort o' be a obstacle," admitted Bindle.
After a pause Dick Little continued, "If you were to have your expenses paid, with a new rig-out and, say, five pounds for yourself, do you think that for three or four days you could manage to be a millionaire?"
"Don't you worry," was Bindle's response.
"What about the real Josiah Williams?" Dick Little had enquired.
"All fudge, at least the millions are," his brother replied. "The unspeakable Reggie could not repudiate the relationship without giving the whole show away. It's immense!" He mixed himself another whisky-and-soda. "I'll talk it over with Travers and Guggers and wire you on Wednesday. Good-bye, Bindle." And he was gone.
That night Bindle stayed late at Little's flat, and talked long and earnestly. As he came away he remarked: