The Pint of Bitter looked wan & weary as he stepped up to the bar at the Angler's Rest. "I was awoken at 6 a.m. by the noise of a chicken laying an egg" he complained, "and yet when my landlady brought me my breakfast, she claimed there were no eggs."
Miss Postlethwaite, the able and pulchritudinous bar waitress, responded brightly to this plaint by recalling, "Mr. Mulliner has a nephew who gives an impression of a hen laying an egg. Your nephew Archibald, wasn't it, Mr. M?"
"Indeed," intoned that aged gentleman, as he reached for his scotch and water. "Archibald Mulliner was famous throughout London for his ability to imitate a hen laying an egg, but that is only natural, given our family's well-known dramatic flair."
"What's this got to do with the price of eggs, I'd like to know..." mumbled the Pint of Bitter.
"One of my nephews," continued Mr. Mulliner, "Gives an excellent impression of a champagne cork popping out of the bottle, and one of my nephews does a vocal rendition of two cats fighting that must be heard to be believed. One nephew can perform the Dance of the Garden Gnomes, and one can show you how to wrestle an alligator using nothing but a rolled up rug and his bare hands. Last but certainly not least, one of my nephews can swim the Esther Williams Windmill stroke from one end of an Olympic sized pool to the the other without ever extinguishing his cigar."
"Now that's talent!" pitched in the Brandy & Splash.
"Yes, my nephews Adrian, Augustine, Clarence, George and Lancelot (to name them alphabetically) have stage talent, indeed," the old fellow said.
"You never know when having a good talent will come in handy," pointed out Miss Postlethwaite.
"Indeed, it was performing these thespian skills that enabled each of my relatives to avoid some terrible fate," intoned Mr. M. "One was released from an unwise engagement, one scared off a wild animal, one avoided a painful interview with his employer, one dodged an aunt on the warpath, and one caused a pack of slavering creditors to fold up laughing on the floor."
"Ah, but did they ever make any money off their talents?" inquired the Martini & Olive.
"A good question," replied Mr. Mulliner, "In fact, they were all invited to perform at the Bar Mitzvah of Isaac Ben Mulliner (you will recall that Jewish credentials pass through Matrilineal descent), and paid handsomely to appear. I believe that the least paid was 100 pounds, and the sums of 200, 300, 400 and 500 pounds changed hands!"
"I don't believe it!" said the Pint of Bitter. "No one would be such an ass to pay that much money!"
"That is because you are unaware that Samuel Goldfinch Mulliner (my cousin and Isaac's father) was a millionaire Hollywood studio mogul. He was so sated with the ham acting of the locals that he sent home for his English relations on the strength of a few references to their talents that I had included in my letters to him. These few clues were all I provided; but he used his powerful Mulliner intellect to figure out who did what, and budgeted his bounty accordingly."
Can you duplicate the efforts of Samuel Goldfinch Mulliner and figure out which Mulliner displayed what talent, what fate it saved him from, and how much he was paid using the clues given below?