A Blot from the Blue

"It is very kind of you, ma'am. His partner is away on a holiday, and
Harold would like to push on a bit and show what he can do. You know
the poop isn't big enough to hold the lieutenant when the skipper's on
shore."

"I suppose he charges the usual half per cent?"

"Don't know, I'm sure, ma'am. I'll swear that he does what is right and
proper."

"That is what I usually pay--ten shillings in the hundred pounds. If
you see him before I do just ask him to get me five thousand in New
Zealands. It is at four just now, and I fancy it may rise."

"Five thousand!" exclaimed the Admiral, reckoning it in his own mind.
"Lemme see! That's twenty-five pounds commission. A nice day's work,
upon my word. It is a very handsome order, ma'am."

"Well, I must pay some one, and why not him?"

"I'll tell him, and I'm sure he'll lose no time."

"Oh, there is no great hurry. By the way, I understand from what you
said just now that he has a partner."

"Yes, my boy is the junior partner. Pearson is the senior. I was
introduced to him years ago, and he offered Harold the opening. Of
course we had a pretty stiff premium to pay."

Mrs. Westmacott had stopped, and was standing very stiffly with her Red
Indian face even grimmer than usual.

"Pearson?" said she. "Jeremiah Pearson?"

"The same."

"Then it's all off," she cried. "You need not carry out that
investment."