to let in Mr Stein, strapped tight in his frock coat, his top hat
set far back on his bullet head. He glared for a moment at the staff in
general, then without a word took a letter addressed to him from a rack
bearing several addressed to customers, and passed into the cash desk.
The girls resumed their polishing more busily. Quickly the night
wrappings fell from the chandeliers; the rosebud baskets were teased
into shape; the tables, loaded swiftly with their sets, grew more
becoming. Victoria, passing from table to table set on each a small vase
full of chrysanthemums.

'I say, Gladys, look at Stein,' whispered Cora to her neighbour. Gladys
straightened herself from under the counter and followed the direction
of Cora's finger.

'Lord,' she said, 'what's up?'

Bella's attention was attracted. She too was interested in her bovine
way. Mr Stein's attitude was certainly unusual. He held a sheet of paper
in one hand, his other hand clutching at his cheek so hard as to make
one of his eyes protrude. Both his eyes were fixed on the sheet of
paper, incredulous and horror-stricken.

'I say, Vic, what's the matter with the little swine?' suddenly said
Lottie, who had at length noticed him.

Victoria looked. Stein had not moved. For some seconds all the girls
gazed spellbound at the frozen figure in the cashbox. The silence of
tragedy was on them, a silence which arrests gesture and causes hearts
to beat.

'Lord, I can't stick this,' whispered Cora, 'there's something wrong.'
Quickly diving under the counter flap she ran towards the pay box where
Stein still sat unmoving, as if petrified. The little group of girls
watched her. Bella's stertorous breathing was plainly heard.

Cora opened the glass door and seized Stein by the arm.

'What's the matter, Mr Stein?' she said excitedly, 'are you feeling
queer?'

Stein started like a somnambulist suddenly awakened and looked at her
stupidly, then at the motionless girls in the shop.

'Nein, nein, lassen sie doch,' he muttered.

'Mr Stein, Mr Stein,' half-screamed Cora.

'Oh, get out, I'm all right, but the game's up. He's gone. The game's up
I tell up. The game's up.'

Cora looked at him round-eyed. Mr Stein's idioms frightened her almost
more than his German.

Stein was babbling, speaking louder and louder.

'Gone away, Burton. Bankrupt and got all the cash. . . . See? You get
the sack. Starve. So do I and my vife. . . . Ach, ach, ach, ach. Mein
Gott, Mein Gott,