Krampusnacht: Twelve Nights of Krampus

Krampusnacht: Twelve Nights of Krampus by Mark Mills, Kate Wolford, Guy Burtenshaw, Jill Corddry, Elise Forier Edie, Patrick Evans, Scott Farrell, Caren Gussoff, Lissa Sloan, Elizabeth Twist Page A

Book: Krampusnacht: Twelve Nights of Krampus by Mark Mills, Kate Wolford, Guy Burtenshaw, Jill Corddry, Elise Forier Edie, Patrick Evans, Scott Farrell, Caren Gussoff, Lissa Sloan, Elizabeth Twist Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Mills, Kate Wolford, Guy Burtenshaw, Jill Corddry, Elise Forier Edie, Patrick Evans, Scott Farrell, Caren Gussoff, Lissa Sloan, Elizabeth Twist
not take any care that the money was disposed of responsibly. Mr. Pennyrake, however, would handle it all for nothing, save of course some very small expenses he might incur in the course of the business. “If I am not mistaken,” he said upon parting, “this may very well be the making of your fortune, Redfern.”
    As he took his leave, Mr. Pennyrake accepted Mr. Redfern’s repeated protestations of gratitude and promises that he would allow Mr. Pennyrake to handle it all. Any charges incurred, Mr. Redfern told him, would be well worth the peace of mind gained by his friend acting on his behalf.
    Once Mr. Pennyrake arrived at his offices he made himself as comfortable as any spider in his web and prepared to receive any opportunities that presented themselves. He was not disappointed. First was Mr. Youngson, the grandson and heir of Lord Barrington. It is Christmas indeed, thought Mr. Pennyrake as he stood to welcome his guest, a wide smile on his face. His smile quickly turned to a look of concerned sympathy as the young man related his reason for troubling Mr. Pennyrake.
    “I’m afraid I find myself in a bit of a,” here Mr. Youngson ran a hand through his hair, “well, an awkward situation. A bit of a fix, really.”
    Mr. Pennyrake appeared most dismayed to hear it, and offered Mr. Youngson some brandy, which that gentleman readily accepted. “You see,” he continued, fortified by the drink, “I sometimes amuse myself with a small bet on a game of cards with friends.”
    Mr. Pennyrake nodded. “A harmless indulgence, surely,” he intoned wisely.
    Mr. Youngson pulled absently on his ear and made an attempt at a laugh. It was a feeble attempt, and an even feebler laugh. “That is just what I thought. But now I find I have gone through my entire allowance and have another five months before I receive it again. Lord and Lady Barrington greatly disapprove of gambling, so I can’t possibly tell them what’s happened to the money or ask for any more. A gentleman of my acquaintance,” here Mr. Youngson supplied the gentleman’s name, “suggested you might be able to assist me in the amount of,” and here he specified a handsome sum.
    Mr. Pennyrake made a mental note that the gentleman’s kind referral would not go unrewarded. “Certainly, certainly, Mr. Youngson. All you need do is put your name to a promissory note to be due in, shall we say three months?”
    Mr. Youngson looked as though he might like to protest, but was not sure how.
    “Oh, I know you will not get your next installment for five months, but I do not think I can lend such a sum for so long a time. But perhaps this advance,” said Mr. Pennyrake as he wrote out the promissory note, “would allow you to return to your card-playing friends and make up what you have lost.”
    Mr. Youngson mumbled something about thinking of reforming and not playing cards any more.
    “Nonsense, Mr. Youngson,” Mr. Pennyrake said bracingly, putting the pen into the young man’s hand, “your luck will change, and you can give the business up then if you like.”
    Mr. Youngson brightened a bit. “Yes,” he said, “doubtless it will.” He dipped the pen in the inkpot and hovered with his hand above the note. “But what about the terms, for the repayment?”
    Mr. Pennyrake made a graceful gesture with his hand. “Oh, they are the simplest in the world. Go ahead and sign the note and I shall provide them to you as you go out. I’m sure you have much to do. You can easily peruse them on your way home.” As Mr. Youngson signed his name, Mr. Pennyrake reached in a drawer and lifted out a heavy booklet which he pressed into the gentleman’s hand, along with the bank note for the agreed sum. “It’s a bit dry reading, to tell the truth. I might not bother if I were you. You will be able to make full payment in three months’ time, won’t you?”
    Mr. Youngson gave a slight movement of the head that might have meant “no” just as easily as

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