e that he
shall not be the lion and we the lamb!"

Chester smiled again: "Why, if that's the point--" he mused. The hope
came again that this unusual shopman and his wish had something to do
with _her_.

"If that's the advice you want," he resumed, "I think we might construe
it as legal, though worth at the most a mere notarial fee."

"And contingent on--?" the costumer prompted.

"Contingent, yes, on the author's success."

"Sir! I am not the author of a manuscript fifty years old!"

"Well, then, on the holder's success. You can agree to that, can't
you?"

"'Tis agreed. You are my counsel. When will you see the manuscript?"

"Whenever you choose to leave it with me."

The costumer's smile was firm: "Sir, I cannot permit that to pass from
my hand."

"Oh! then have a copy typed for me."

The Creole soliloquized: "That would be expensive." Then to Chester:
"Sir, I will tell you; to-night come at our parlor, over the shop. I
will read you that!"

"Shall we be alone?" asked Chester, hoping his client would say no.

"Only excepting my"--a tender brightness--"my wife!" Then a shade of
regret: "We are without children, me and my wife."

His wife. H'mm! _She_? That amazing one who had vanished within a
few yards of his bazaar of "masques et costumes"? Though to Chester
New Orleans was still new, and though fat law-books and a slim purse
kept him much to himself, he was aware that, while some Creoles grew
rich, many of them, women, once rich, were being driven even to stand
behind counters. Yet no such plight could he imagine of that
bewildering young--young luminary who, this second time, so out of
time, had gleamed on him from mystery's cloud. His earlier hope came a
third time: "Excepting only your wife, you say? Why not also your
amateur expert?"

"I am sorry, but"--the Latin shrug--"that is--that is not possible."

"Have I ever seen your wife? She's not a tallish, slender young-----?"

"No, my wife is neither. She's never in the street or shop. She has
no longer the cap-acity. She's become so extraordinarily _un_-slender
that the only way she can come down-stair' is backward. You'll see.
Well,"--he waved--"till then--ah, a word: my close bargaining--I must
explain you that--in confidence. 'Tis because my wife and me we are
anxious to get every picayune we can get for the owners--of that
manuscript."

Chester thought to be shrewd: "Oh! is _she_ hard up? the owner?"

"The owners a