The girls and Bill beamed and nodded delightedly, but their delight was short-lived, put to an end by Mrs. Weatherby’s next words. "A reward, Sergeant?" she said. "Oh, I don’t think that’s at all necessary..."
Joe murmured. "But such a valuable brooch, Mrs. Weatherby. And one of the cleaners, you know." He grinned as Susan, who nodded in violent agreement several times.
Mrs. Weatherby shrieked down the telephone, "Valuable, Sergeant? Where did you get that idea? My little brooch is very precious to me, Sergeant, it belonged to my mother, you know, but it has no value..."
"Oh, my mistake, Mrs. Weatherby, madam," said Joe smoothly, "I thought you told me it was worth hundreds of pounds. Ten per cent," he added casually, "is quite a usual reward."
"The sentimental value, of course I meant, Sergeant," Mrs. Weatherby interrupted quickly. "But perhaps you could arrange to give the cleaner half a crown or so."
"You can tell me about that when you come in to identify the brooch, Mrs. Weatherby," said Joe. "After all," he added, a little spitefully, "it might not be your brooch... Mean old skinflint," he went on, after he had put down the receiver.
"Half a crown!" Susan was snorting. "Honestly, it's hopeless! Half a crown! We never seem to be able to get our hands on big money!"
From NO TROUBLE FOR SUSAN, Chapter 11, Think it Over.