"One can't put a price on one's legacy, my good man," he said, straightening slightly in his chair. He took the deck in hand when it finally settled down, and carefully dealt out another hand. With a man like Mulciber, you couldn't quite get away with dealing off the bottom. "I'm reluctant to put a number to the blade that Yardley Platt used to rid the world of all those sniveling creatures - no one contributes to society anymore, you know. But, shall we say ... another thousand?" Gold was still cheap, to him; for something that ought to be sitting in the Malfoy vault, a small fortune was little enough. It always felt good to bring something home. "I'm sure I can scratch up the coin from some drawer or other, if you insist on putting it on the table."