When he had skimmed through them, Leon stacked the cuttings neatly and slid them back across the table to Percy, who immediately shoved them back to him. ‘I don’t want them. Not only are they nonsense but they’re a bit too sickly and sycophantic for my stomach. You can burn them or give them back to your uncle Penrod. It was he who collected them. By the way, he wants to see you, but more of that later. First I want you to read this other mail. It’s much more interesting.’ Percy passed a stack of envelopes across the table.
Leon took it from him and shuffled through them. He saw that nearly all of the letters were written on expensive vellum or heavy linen paper, with ornately embossed headings. Most were hand-penned but a few had been typed on cheaper paper. They were addressed in such varying styles as, ‘Herr Courtney, Glücklicher Jäger, Nairobi, Afrika,’ or ‘M. Courtney, Chasseur Extraordinaire, Nairobi, Afrique de l’Est,’ or, more simply, ‘The greatest hunter in Africa, Nairobi, Africa’.
Leon looked up at Percy. ‘What’s this?’
‘Enquiries from people who have read Andrew Fagan’s articles and want to come hunting with you, poor benighted souls. They know not what they do,’ Percy explained briefly.
‘They’re addressed to me but you opened them!’ Leon accused him sternly.
‘I thought you’d want me to. They might have contained something that needed an urgent reply,’ Percy answered, with an innocent air and an apologetic shrug.
‘A gentleman does not open mail addressed to another.’ Leon looked him straight in the eye.
‘I’m not a gentleman, I’m your boss, and don’t you forget it, sonny boy.’
‘I can change that as quick as a flash of lightning.’ Leon had sensed the new authority and status that the letters in his hand had given him.
‘Now, now, my dear Leon, let us not be hasty. You are correct. I should not have opened your letters and I apologize. Dreadfully uncouth of me.’
‘My dear Percy, your very decent apology is accepted unconditionally.’
They were quiet as Leon skimmed through the last of his correspondence.
‘There’s one from a German princess, Isabella von Hoherberg something or other.’ Percy broke the silence.
‘I saw it.’
‘She attached her photograph,’ Percy added helpfully. ‘Not at all bad. Suit a man my age. But you like them mature, don’t you?’
‘Do shut up, Percy.’ At last Leon looked up. ‘I’ll read the rest later.’
‘Do you think this might be the time to talk about my offer of a partnership?’
‘Percy, I’m deeply moved. I didn’t think for one moment you were serious about that.’
‘I am.’
‘All right. Let’s talk.’
It was almost evening before they had thrashed out the framework of their new financial arrangement.
‘One last thing, Leon. You must pay for your private use of the motor. I’m not going to sponsor your amorous forays into Nairobi.’
‘That’s fair enough, Percy, but if you’re going to make such a stipulation, I want to make two of my own.’
Percy looked suspicious and uneasy. ‘Let’s hear what they are.’
‘The name of the new firm—’
‘It’s Phillips and Courtney Safaris, of course,’ Percy cut in hurriedly.
‘That’s not alphabetical, Percy. Shouldn’t it be Courtney and Phillips or more simply C and P Safaris?’
‘It’s my show. It should be P and C Safaris.’ Percy protested.
‘Not any more is it your show. It’s our show now.’
‘Cocky little bugger. I’ll spin you for it.’ He groped in his pocket and brought out a silver shilling. ‘Heads or tails?’
‘Heads!’ said Leon.
Percy spun the coin high and caught it on the back of his left hand as it fell. He covered it with the right. ‘Are you sure you really want heads?’
‘Come on, Percy. Let’s have a look.’
Percy peeped under his hand and sighed. ‘This is what happens to the old lion when the young one starts feeling his oats,’ he said unhappily.
‘Lions don’t eat oats. Let’s have a look at what you’re hiding.’
Percy showed him the coin. ‘Very well, you win,’ he capitulated. ‘It’s C and P Safaris. What’s your second demand?’
‘I want our partnership contract backdated to the first day of the Roosevelt safari.’
‘Ouch, and shiver my timbers! You really are rubbing my nose in it! You want me to pay you full commission for your hunt with Kermit Roosevelt!’ Percy pantomimed disbelief and deep distress.
‘Stop it, Percy, you’re breaking my heart.’ Leon smiled.
‘Be reasonable, Leon. That’ll amount to almost two hundred pounds!’
‘Two hundred and fifteen, to be precise.’
‘You’re taking advantage of a sick old man.’
‘You look hale and hearty to me. Are we in agreement?’
‘I suppose I have no other option, you heartless boy.’
‘May I take that as yes?’
Percy nodded reluctantly, then smiled and held out his hand. They shook and Percy grinned triumphantly. ‘I would have gone up to thirty per cent on your commission if you’d pressed me, rather than the piddling twenty-five you settled on.’
‘And I would have agreed to twenty if you’d held out a little longer.’ Leon’s smile was equally smug.
