nyer wine--from French wine Tchampanyer, not
_Amerikanischer_."

He waved his hand impatiently and three waiters--half of Marculescu's
entire staff--came on the jump; so that, a moment later, Jassy and his
guests were divested of their wraps and seated at one of the largest
tables facing the piano. It was not until then that Milton descried Max
Merech hovering round the door.

"Merech!" he called. "_Kommen sie 'r ueber!_"

Max shook his head shyly and half-opened the door, but Elkan forestalled
him. He fairly bounded from the table and caught his assistant cutter by
the arm just as he was disappearing on to the sidewalk.

"Max," he said, "what's the matter with you? Ain't you coming in to meet
my wife?"

Max shrugged in embarrassment.

"You don't want me to butt into your party, Mr. Lubliner!" he said.

"Listen, Max," Elkan almost pleaded; "not only do I want you to, but you
would be doing me a big favour if you would come in and join us. Also,
Max, I am going to introduce you as our designer. You ain't got no
objections?"

"Not at all," Max replied, and he followed his employer into the cafe.

"Yetta," Elkan began, "I think you seen Mr. Merech before--ain't it?"

Mrs. Lubliner smiled and extended her hand.

"How do you do, Mr. Merech?" she said; and Max bowed awkwardly.

"Mr. Kammerman," Elkan continued, "this is our designer, Max Merech; and
I could assure you, Mr. Kammerman, a very good one too. He's got a great
eye for colour."

"And a good ear for music," Milton added as Kammerman shook the blushing
dilettante by the hand.

"In fact, Mr. Kammerman, if he has got such taste in designing as he is
showing in music," Milton went on, "he must be a wonder! Nothing suits
him but the best. And now, if you will excuse me, I'll get Volkovisk he
should play you his sonata."

He left the table with his leather portfolio under his arm, and for more
than five minutes he held an earnest consultation with Volkovisk and
the cellist, after which he returned smiling to his seat.

"First Volkovisk plays his sonata, 'Opus 30,'" he explained, "and then
he would do a little thing of my own."

He nodded briskly to Volkovisk, and Kammerman settled himself resignedly
to a hearing of what he anticipated would be a commonplace piece of
music. After the first six measures, however, he sat up straight in his
chair and his face took on an expression of wonder and delight. Then,
resting his elbow on the table, he nursed his c