"Gets chilly in the evenings now, doesn't it?" said Hickler.
"It does indeed," Brodski agreed, and then resumed his slow munching, breathing audibly through his nose.
"Five thousand at least," the subconscious train of thought resumed; "probably six or seven, perhaps ten." Silas fidgeted in his chair and endeavoured to concentrate his ideas on some topic of interest. He was growing disagreeably conscious of a new and unfamiliar state of mind.
"Do you take any interest in gardening?", he asked. Next to diamonds and "weekly property," his besetting weakness was fuchsias.
Brodski chuckled sourly. "Hatton Garden is the nearest approach" He broke off suddenly, and then added, "I am a Londoner, you know."
The abrupt break in the sentence was not unnoticed by Silas, nor had he any difficulty in interpreting it. A man who carries untold wealth upon his person must needs be wary in his speech.
"Yes," he answered absently, "it's hardly a Londoner's hobby." And then, half consciously, he began a rapid calculation. Put it at five thousand pounds. What would that represent in weekly property? His last set of houses had cost two hundred and fifty pounds apiece, and he had let them at ten shillings and sixpence a week. At that rate, five thousand pounds represented twenty
