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Updated: May 26, 2025
"I may be amusing, but I am not susceptible to the flattery of giggling. Endeavour not to treat serious subjects lightly." "I don't see any boots." "Neither do I. You will telephone to the bootmaker's, and to my tailor's; also to Sir Paul Spinner and Messrs. Smathe and Smathe. But before that I will just dictate a few more letters." "Certainly." When he had finished dictating, Mr.
Percy Smathe's private room he listened but carelessly to a long legal recital. Details did not interest him. He knew he was all right. That afternoon Mr. Prohack just got back to his bank before closing time. He had negligently declined to comprehend a very discreet hint from Mr. Percy Smathe that if he desired ready money he could have it in bulk.
Percy Smathe?" demanded Bishop of a clerk whose head glittered in the white radiance of a green-shaded lamp. "I'll see, sir. Please step into the waiting-room." And he waved a patronising negligent hand. "What name?" he added. "Have you forgotten my name already?" Mr. Bishop retorted sharply. "Bishop. Tell Mr. Percy Smathe I'm here. At once, please." And he led Mr.
Of course your capital may not be liquid. You mayn't be able to get at it. I don't know. But I thought it was just worth mentioning to you, and so I said to myself I'd look in here on my way to the City." Sir Paul Spinner touting for a miserable eighty thousand pounds! "Hanged if I know how my capital is!" said Mr. Prohack. "I suppose your lawyer knows. Smathe, isn't it?... I heard so."
The car halted finally before an immense new block of buildings, and the inheritors floated up to the fifth floor in a padded lift manned by a brilliantly-uniformed attendant. Mr. Prohack saw "Smathe and Smathe" in gilt on a glass door. The enquiry office resembled the ante-room of a restaurant, as the whole building resembled a fashionable hotel. Everywhere was mosaic flooring. "Mr.
The offices of Smathe and Smathe corresponded with alarming closeness to Mr. Prohack's idea of what a bucket-shop might be. Mr. Prohack had the gravest fears for his hundred thousand pounds. "This is the solicitor's office new style," said Bishop, who seemed to have an uncanny gift of reading thoughts. "Very big firm. Anglo-American. Smathe and Smathe are two cousins. Percy's American.
I'll tell you what I can do. I'll telephone Smathe that you're coming down to see him yourself, and he must tell you everything. That'll be best. Then I'll let you know my decision later." As they parted, Sir Paul said: "We know each other, and you may take it from me it's all right. I'll say no more. However, you think it over." "Oh! I will!" Old Paul touting for eighty thousand pounds!
The mood was brought about by a visit to the City, at the summons of Paul Spinner; and the visit included conversations not only with Paul, but with Smathe and Smathe, the solicitors, and with a firm of stockbrokers. Paul handed over to his crony saleable securities, chiefly in the shape of scrip of the greatest oil-combine and its subsidiaries, for a vast amount, and advised Mr.
Ozzie accepted the decision. "Look here. I think I must be off," Charlie put in. "I've got a lot of work to do." "I expect you have," Mr. Prohack concurred. "By the way, you might meet me at Smathe and Smathe's at ten fifteen in the morning." Charlie nodded and slipped away. "Infant," said Mr. Prohack to the defiantly smiling bride who awaited him in the council chamber.
Only in mad people is resolution inexhaustible. Mr. Prohack had no more resolution than becomes an average sane fellow, and his resolution to wait for his wife had been seriously tried by the energetic refusal to go with Spinner to see Smathe. It now suddenly gave out. "Pooh!" said Mr. Prohack. "I've waited long enough for her. She'll now have to wait a bit for me."
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