you mortgage a house you have the use of it just the same all the time you pay the interest, don’t you?”
“Of course. But are these houses mortgaged, Mr. Jollybold?”
He seemed to consider this a good joke, and he could not help indulging in a gruff laugh. “Is anybody stupid enough,” he rejoined, “to build houses without hiring money? and how do you think I could sell you these to pay 27¾ per cent. if they wasn’t mortgaged? And—”
I stopped him here, and said, “As that is the case, Mr. Jollybold, I would rather have nothing to do with the property, and so I wish you good afternoon.”
“You must excuse me,” he said, “for laughing at your observation, but as you are not up to the nature of building transactions, you of course require an answer to your question, how I can sell you these houses to pay 27¾ per cent.? Well, it is just here. They are let at 65l. a piece; this makes 260l. a-year for the whole. Now, deduct 40l. for ground rent, and 7l. for insurance, and that leaves 213l. Then they are mortgaged for 1500l. at 5 per cent., and this gives another deduction of 75l., and leaves a yearly gain of 138l., and this I am willing to sell for 500l.”
I made the calculation on a piece of paper. There was no mistake about it; 138l. per annum for 500l. gives 27¾ per cent.
“And your interest in these houses, over and above the mortgage, is your equity of redemption, Mr. Jollybold?”
“Just so!” said he; “and now, having made these calculations, I should think you could see the advantage of using other people’s money as well as your own.”
“But in case the money is called in?” I suggested.
“There’s always plenty of people to let you have money on mortgage,” he said; “and there’s only the expense of shifting from one to the other, which is very trifling.”
“Then there’s repairs,” I said.
“Repairs to these houses!” he replied. “Why they haven’t been built twelve months yet, and are let to first-class people. Bless you! them houses will be better when the tenants leave ’em than when they went in. Repairs! Why tenants of this sort don’t send to you when a nail wants driving, or a window clatters. They’re above it. Now there’s Mr. Coffers, head clerk at a Lombard Street bank, lives in No. 1, and I should say if he’s laid out a penny on that house since he’s been in it he has spent 50l. in fittings. And this tenant at No. 2 is a merchant in a large way of business in the city, and he aint likely to be bothering you every day. I have had tenants in 20l. a-year houses as did dip into your pockets, but when you have property like this there’s no mistake about it. Just look in and see one of them. They’re all alike. Let’s go into Mr. Coffers’.”
Mr. Jollybold, having received permission of the servant, ushered us into the double drawing-room of Mr. C., elegantly furnished, and abounding in mirrors and nick-nacks. My wife and I looked more at these than at the rooms, but Mr. Jollybold requested us to notice the splendid marble mantelpieces, the enriched cornices, the china finger plates, and the plate-glass windows. I confess I had an itching to become possessed of such desirable property, on such apparently easy terms: and my wife, I am sure, had similar feelings. How it would magnify the legacy in the estimation of our neighbours! As Mrs. Coffers was upstairs, we did not see the upper floors, but contented ourselves with looking into the back garden, through the drawing-room window. It was tastefully arranged, and sparkled with geraniums, calceolarias, and various other flowers.
“Well, now, what do you think of it?” said Mr. Jollybold, as we came down the steps. “Did you ever see better finished houses? Don’t they do credit to a man’s taste? And if you had seen the kitchen floor you would have said, ‘Jollybold does know how to arrange houses.’ Talk about convenience!—there,” said he, “I’ll defy any man to plan more convenient houses than them.”
“And are they well built, Mr. Jollybold?”
“They’re built too well, sir. Leasehold houses ought to be built to last only one day longer than the lease, and then they ought to tumble about the freeholder’s ears. But as for these houses, they’ll last three times 99 years, and when the leases are out, they’ll be rather better than they are now, for then they will be thoroughly seasoned.”
“What do you say, my dear?” I said to my wife; “shall we entertain the offer?”
“I think, if Mr. Jollybold would say 450l.,” she replied (she has a shrewd way of business, has my wife) “we might do so.”
“Now, that is tolerably good, ma’am,” said Mr. Jollybold; “you must excuse me for saying so, but you came here doubting if my representations were correct, and now you find everything honest and straightforward, you want to beat me down in price. I mean business, sir,” he said to me, “and I don’t abate one penny—and if you don’t take the houses, I have a customer who will; indeed, he had only left the Freeholders’ Arms five minutes before you came in.”
“And you didn’t close the bargain?” I said.
“No, sir. He wanted the purchase to stand over for a couple of months, and offered an extra 50l. if I would agree to it, but I said ‘No, if I have a customer he must be a ready-money man.’ So, sir, if you are prepared with the money, there’s the houses.”
“I have the money,” I replied, “and could pay for them to-morrow.”
“Oh, yes!” continued my wife. “Our stockbroker could sell out at an hour’s notice.”
“Just so!” said Mr. Jollybold; “and the sooner you have the property, the sooner you will get 30 per cent, instead of 3 for your money.”
The thought struck me if Mr. Jollybold was making 30 per cent., why did he want to sell such desirable property, and I asked him what had induced him to put the houses in the market.
“It is just this,” he said. “I’m building at other places, and I must cover some of the land by a certain time, or forfeit my agreement; I therefore want the money at once—not from poverty, but for keeping the ball moving.”
