He waited for something to happen. And not in vain.
A few days after the historic revelry, Mrs Codleyn called to see Denry's
employer. Mr Duncalf was her solicitor. A stout, breathless, and yet
muscular woman of near sixty, the widow of a chemist and druggist who
had made money before limited companies had taken the liberty of being
pharmaceutical. The money had been largely invested in mortgage on
cottage property; the interest on it had not been paid, and latterly Mrs
Codleyn had been obliged to foreclose, thus becoming the owner of some
seventy cottages. Mrs Codleyn, though they brought her in about twelve
pounds a week gross, esteemed these cottages an infliction, a bugbear,
an affront, and a positive source of loss. Invariably she talked as
though she would willingly present them to anybody who cared to accept--
"and glad to be rid of 'em!" Most owners of property talk thus. She
particularly hated paying the rates on them.
Now there had recently occurred, under the direction of the Borough
Surveyor, a revaluation of the whole town. This may not sound exciting;
yet a revaluation is the most exciting event (save a municipal ball
given by a titled mayor) that can happen in any town.
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