"My good fellow," said Todd, "I have only one question to ask you--"

"Fire away." "And that is, if you would prefer to have a sum of money down, and not
trouble me any more?" "Down!" "Yes, down." "On the nail? Well, its temptatious, I own. Let me see. Thus Fogg's
riglar annuity, as a fellow may call it, and a good round sum down from
you, Mr. T. I think you said a good round sum down on the nail, didn't
you?" "Yes--yes. Any sum in reason." "Done, then. I'll do it. Honour bright and shining. Mr. T., when I says
a thing, it's said, and no mistake, and if I takes something down, you
won't hear no more of me; whatever you may think, Mr. T., I ain't one of
them fellows as will spend their tin, and then come asking for more--not
I. Oh, dear no! Only give me what's reasonable down, and the thing's
settled." "Very good," said Todd, in a voice which was calm and composed. "Just
step this way, into the back parlour, and I'll satisfy you. As for
troubling me any more, I am, I assure you, as perfectly easy upon that
point as it is at all possible to be." CHAPTER LXII. TODD CLEARS OFF CIRCUMSTANCES. The arrangement come to between Todd and his visitor seemed to give
equal satisfaction to both, and Mr. Peter, if he had what the
phrenologists call an organ of caution at all developed, must have had
acquisitiveness so large as completely to overpower its action at the
present time. The idea of getting from Todd's fears a sum of money at
once, and from Fogg's fears a regular small annuity, was to him a most
felicitous combination of circumstances, and his reflections upon the
pleasant consequences resulting therefrom had such full possession of
him, that his scruples vanished, and as he followed Todd into the back
parlour from the shop, he muttered to himself--

"I'll try and get enough out of him to open a public-house." Todd heard the wish, and turning quickly with what he intended should be
an engaging smile, he said--

"And why not, Peter--and why not? Nothing would give me more sincere
gratification than seeing you in a public-house, for although a man may
be a publican, he need not be a sinner, you know." "Eh?" "I say he need not be a sinner; and there would be nothing in the world,
Peter, to prevent you from having prayers night and morning, and I am
sure I should be most happy to come now and then, if it were only to say
'Amen!'" "Humph!" said Peter. "You are too good, you are. Much too good, really." "Not at all, Peter. Let us be as good as we may, we cannot be too good. Human nature is a strange compound, you know, mixed up of several things
opposite to each other, like a lather in a shaving dish." With this sentiment Todd held open the door of the sanctum behind his
shop, and by a cautious wave of his hand invited Mr. Peter to enter. That gentleman did so. "Now," said Todd, in quite a confidential tone, "what is your peculiar
affection in the--"

Here Mr. Todd went through the pantomimic action of draining a glass. Peter laughed, and then shaking his head waggishly, he said--

"What a rum 'un you are! Fogg had his funny ways, but I do think you
beat him, that you do. Well, if I must say I have a partiality, it's to
brandy. Do you know, I think, between you and me and the post, that a
drop of good brandy is rather one of them things that makes human nature
what it is." "What a just remark," said Todd. Peter looked as sage as possible. He was getting upon wonderfully good
terms with his own sagacity--a certain sign that he was losing his
ordinary discretion. Todd opened a small cupboard in the wall--what a
number of small cupboards in the wall Todd had--and produced a
long-necked bottle and a couple of glasses. He held the bottle up to the
dim light, saying--

"That's the thing, rather." "It looks like it," said Peter. "And it is," said Todd, "what it looks. This bottle and the liquor
within it have basked in the sun of a fairer clime than ours, Peter, and
the laughing glades of the sweet south have capped it in beauty." Peter looked puzzled. "What a learned man you are, Mr. T.," he said. "You seem to know
something of everything, and I dare say the brandy is to the full as
good as it looks." This was decidedly a quiet sort of hint to decant some of it without
further loss of time, and Todd at once complied. He filled Peter's glass
to the brim, and his own more moderately; and as the golden liquor came
out with a pleasant bubble from the bottle, Peter's eyes glistened, and
he sniffed up the aroma of that pure champaign brandy with the utmost
complaisance. "Beautiful! beautiful!" he exclaimed. "Pretty well," said Todd. "Pretty well? It's glorious!" Mr. Peter raised the glass to his lips, and giving a nod to Todd over
the rim of it, he said--

"I looks towards you." Todd nodded, and then, in another moment Peter put down his empty glass. "Out and out!" he gasped. "Out and out! Ah, that is the stuff." Todd tossed off the glass, with the toast of "A long life, and a merry
one!" which was duly acknowledged by Peter, who replied--

"The same to you, Mr. T., and lots of 'em." "It's like milk," said Todd, as he filled Peter's glass again. "It's for
all the world like milk, and never can do any one any harm." "No--no. Enough. There--stop." Todd did stop, when the glass was within a hair's breadth of running
over, but not before; and then again he helped himself, and when he set
the bottle upon the table, he said--

"A biscuit?" "Not for me. No." "Nay. You will find it pleasant with the brandy. I have one or two here. Rather hard, perhaps, but good." "Well, I will, then. I was afraid you would have to go out for them,
that was all, Mr. T., and I wouldn't give you any trouble for the world. I only hope we shall often meet in this quiet comfortable way, Mr. T. I
always did respect you, for, as I often said to Fogg, of all the
customers that come here, Mr. Todd for me. He takes things in an easy
way, and if he is a thundering rogue, he is at all events a clever one." "How kind!" "No offence, I hope, Mr. Todd?" "Offence, my dear fellow? Oh, dear me! How could you think of such a
thing? Offence, indeed! You cannot possibly offend me!" "I'm rejoiced to hear you say so, Mr. T., I am really; and this is--this
is--the--very best--ah--brandy that ever I--where are you going, Mr. T.?" "Only to get the biscuits. They are in the cupboard behind you; but
don't stir, I beg. You are not at all in the way." "Are you sure?" "Quite." Todd stepped easily between Peter's chair and the wall, and opening
another of the mysterious small cupboards, he laid his hand upon a
hammer, with a long handle, that was upon the shelf. "If this," said Peter, "was the last word I had to say in the world, I
would swear to the goodness of the brandy." As he uttered the words he turned his head sharply, and faced Todd. The
hammer was upraised, and would, if he had not so turned, have descended
with fatal effect upon the top of his head.