"Well, about that commission," she said. "Of course, you know, Chris, you oughtn't to charge me what you'd charge other folks. You ought to do it very reasonable indeed for me. What were you thinking of, now?" "I got the top price," remarked Christopher reflectively. "I got you quite four hundred more than the market price. How would--how would five per cent. be, now?" Miss Pett threw up the gay turban with a toss of surprise. "Five per cent!" she ejaculated. "Christopher Pett!--whatever are you talking about? Why, that 'ud be a hundred and seventy pound! Eh, dear!--nothing of the sort--it 'ud be as good as robbery. I'm astonished at you." "Well, how much, then?" growled Christopher. "Hang it all!--don't be close with your own nephew." "I'll give you a hundred pounds--to include the costs," said Miss Pett firmly. "Not a penny more--but," she added, bending forward and nodding her head towards that half of the cottage wherein Mallalieu slumbered so heavily, "I'll give you something to boot--an opportunity of feathering your nest out of--him!" Christopher's face, which had clouded heavily, lightened somewhat at this, and he too glanced at the door. "Will it be worth it?" he asked doubtfully. "What is there to be got out of him if he's flying from justice? He'll carry naught--and he can't get at anything that he has, either." Miss Pett gave vent to a queer, dry chuckle; the sound of her laughter always made her nephew think of the clicking of machinery that badly wanted oiling. "He's heaps o' money on him!" she whispered. "After he dropped off tonight I went through his pockets. We've only got to keep a tight hold on him to get as much as ever we like! So--put your hundred in your pocket, and we'll see about the other affair tomorrow." "Oh, well, of course, in that case!" said Christopher. He picked up the banknote which his aunt pushed towards him and slipped it into his purse. "We shall have to play on his fears a bit, you know," he remarked. "I think we shall be equal to it--between us," answered Miss Pett drily. "Them big, flabby men's easy frightened." Mallalieu was certainly frightened when he woke suddenly next morning to find Miss Pett standing at the side of his bed. He glared at her for one instant of wild alarm and started up on his pillows. Miss Pett laid one of her claw-like hands on his shoulder. "Don't alarm yourself, mister," she said. "All's safe, and here's something that'll do you good--a cup of nice hot coffee--real Mocha, to which the late Kitely was partial--with a drop o'rum in it. Drink it--and you shall have your breakfast in half an hour. It's past nine o'clock." "I must have slept very sound," said Mallalieu, following his gaoler's orders. "You say all's safe? Naught heard or seen?"