Making Money

‘Nearby places,’ said Bent, lifting the chair off the wardrobe. ‘There you are, sir. I don’t often have visitors.’

‘I’ll come straight to the point, Mr Bent,’ said Cosmo, sitting down. ‘The directors do not like the, ha, direction things are going. I’m sure you don’t, either.’

‘I could wish for them to be otherwise, sir, yes.’

‘He should have held a directors’ meeting!’

‘Yes, sir, but bank rules say he needn’t do so for a week, I’m afraid.’

‘He will ruin the bank!’

‘We are in fact getting many new customers, sir.’

‘You can’t possibly like the man? Not you, Mr Bent?’

‘He is easy to like, sir. But you know me, sir. I do not trust those who laugh too easily. The heart of a fool is in the house of mirth. He should not be in charge of your bank.’

‘I like to think of it as our bank, Mr Bent,’ said Cosmo generously, ‘because, in a very real way, it is ours.’

‘You are too kind, sir,’ said Bent, staring down at the floorboards visible through the hole in the cheap oilcloth which was itself laid bare, in a very real way, by the bald patch in the carpet which, in a very real way, was his.

‘You joined us quite young, I believe,’ Cosmo went on. ‘My father himself gave you a job as trainee clerk, didn’t he?’

‘That is correct, sir.’

‘He was very … understanding, my father,’ said Cosmo. ‘And rightly so. No sense in dredging up the past.’ He paused for a little while to let this sink in. Bent was intelligent, after all. No need to use a hammer when a feather would float down with as much effect.

‘Perhaps you could find some way that will allow him to be removed from office without fuss or bloodshed? There must be something,’ he prompted. ‘No one just steps out of nowhere. But people know even less about his past than they do about, for the sake of argument, yours.’

Another little reminder. Bent’s eye twitched. ‘But Mr Fusspot will still be chairman,’ he mumbled, while the rain rattled on the glass.

‘Oh yes. But I’m sure he will then be looked after by someone who is, shall we say, better capable of translating his little barks along more traditional lines?’

‘I see.’

‘And now I must be going,’ said Cosmo, standing up. ‘I’m sure you have a lot of things to’ — he looked around the barren room which showed no sign of real human occupation, no pictures, no books, no debris of living, and concluded — ‘do?’

‘I will go to sleep shortly,’ said Mr Bent.

‘Tell me, Mr Bent, how much do we pay you?’ said Cosmo, glancing at the wardrobe.

‘Forty-one dollars per month, sir,’ said Bent.

‘Ah, but of course you get wonderful job security.’

‘So I had hitherto believed, sir.’

‘I just wonder why you choose to live here?’

‘I like the dullness, sir. It expects nothing of me.’

‘Well, time to go,’ said Cosmo, slightly faster than he really should. ‘I’m sure you can be of help, Mr Bent. You have always been a great help. It would be such a shame if you could not be of help at this time.’

Bent stared at the floor. He was trembling.

‘I speak for all of us when I say that we think of you as one of the family,’ Cosmo went on. He rethought this sentence with reference to the peculiar charms of the Lavishes and added: ‘but in a good way.’

Chapter 6

Jailbreak — The prospect of the kidney sandwich — The barber-surgeon’s knock — Suicide by paint, inadvisability of — Angels at one remove — Igor goes shopping — The use of understudies at a hanging, reflections on — Places suitable for putting a head — Moist awaits the sunshine — Tricks with your brain — ‘We’re going to need some bigger notes’ — Fun with root vegetables — The lure of clipboards — The impossible cabinet

On the roof of the Tanty, the city’s oldest jail, Moist was more than moist. He’d reached the point where he was so wet that he should be approaching dryness from the other end.

With care, he lifted the last of the oil lamps from the little semaphore tower on the flat roof, and tossed its contents into the howling night. They had been only half full in any case. It was amazing that anyone had even bothered to light them on a night like this.

He felt his way back to the edge of the roof and located his grapnel, moving it gently around the stern crenellation and then letting out more rope to lower it down to the invisible ground. Now he had the rope around the big stone bulk he slid down holding on to both lengths and pulled the rope down after him. He stashed both grapnel and rope among the debris in an alley; they would be stolen within an hour or so.

Right, then. Now for it …