Aaron Rodd, Diviner by E. Phillips Oppenheim

Author:E. Phillips Oppenheim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jovian Press

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VI. — PAUL BRODIE STRIKES

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MR. JACOB POTTS, BLOWING VERY hard, and with his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, finished an elaborate signature, patted his waistcoat pocket, in which he had just deposited a cheque, laid down the pen, and, leaning back in his chair, crossed his legs. He was once more occupying the distinguished position of being Aaron Rodd’s only client.

“I never thought to do it,” he declared. “I never thought to part with ‘The Sailor-boys’ while I was, so to speak, in the prime of life. It’s ‘aving the lads turn agin me that’s done it. It shows, Mr. Rodd,” he added impressively, “what money will do in this world.”

“Financially,” Aaron Rodd reminded him, “you are independent, absolutely independent of work.”

“I know, but what’s a man to do?” Mr. Potts replied with a sigh. “There was plenty down there always to keep me occupied, and those lads—well, I could have sworn to them running straight till that blarsted Dutchman came along. I tell you, Mr. Rodd,” he went on, “I’ve done some deals in my life, and I’ve been up against propositions where money didn’t seem much object. I’ve ‘ad jobs brought to me which I wouldn’t allow my lads to tackle, where they, in a manner of speaking, thrust a blank cheque down under my nose, but I never in my born days knowed money chucked about like them as was at the back of that Dutchman was willing to chuck it about. Why, for an ordinary job, if my boys got a tenner apiece they thought themselves on velvet. From wot Tim, my barman, told me, and he generally noses out wot there is going abaht, there was two ‘undred quid for each of those boys if they got the young woman on board. No wonder they were kind of off their chumps!”

“Where exactly did they mean to take her?” Aaron Rodd asked.

Mr. Jacob Potts grinned.

“I bet she knows, sir, and I should have thought she’d told you before this,” he replied. “Give every man ‘is due, I say, and for an amateur that ‘ad no more idea than a babe unborn how to put up his dukes, I must say you did fairly let into ‘em, Mr. Rodd. I never seed a man lose ‘old of ‘imself so, in a manner of speaking, and as for that young gent as writes poetry, why, I’d make a bruiser of ‘im in six months. ‘E don’t seem to feel pain. And bein’ as we’re on the subject of that scrap, sir, are you above taking a word of advice from an old man?”

“I certainly am not,” Aaron Rodd assured him.

“If I was you, I should go a bit quiet with the young lady and ‘er friends,” Jacob Potts said seriously. “I’ve nowt straightforward to tell agin ‘em, and that’s a fact, but a bit here and a bit there is good enough for a man with a level head. There’s three or four of ‘er kidney in this country, and, if I’m not greatly mistook, they’re wrong ‘uns.

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