ught a target for a right swing on Sammet's
bloated face; but at length he nodded and forced himself to smile.

"_Schon gut_, Mr. Sammet," he said; "then I will see you to-morrow."

A moment later he strode down lower Fifth Avenue toward the place of
business of the last creditor on Dishkes' list. This was none other than
Elkan's distinguished friend, B. Gans, the manufacturer of high-grade
dresses; and it required less than ten minutes to procure his consent to
the proposed extension.

"And I hope," Elkan said, "that we could count on you to be at the
meeting to-morrow."

"That's something I couldn't do," B. Gans replied; "but I'll write you a
letter and give you full authority you should represent me there. Excuse
me a minute and I'll dictate it to Miss Scheindler." When he returned,
five minutes later, he sat down at his desk and, crossing his legs,
prepared to beguile the tedium of waiting.

"Well, Elkan," he said, "what you been doing with yourself lately?
Thee-aytres and restaurants, I suppose?"

"Thee-aytres I ain't so much interested in no more," Elkan said. "The
fact is, I am going in now for antics."

"Antics!" B. Gans exclaimed.

"Sure," Elkan replied; and there was a certain pride in his tones.
"Antics is what I said, Mr. Gans--Jacobson chairs and them--now--cat's
furniture."

"Cat's furniture?" Gans repeated. "What d'ye mean cat's furniture?"

"Angry cats," Elkan explained; and then a great light broke upon B.
Gans.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You mean Henri Quatre furniture?"

"Hungry cat _oder_ angry cat," Elkan said. "All I know is we are
refurnishing our flat, Mr. Gans, and we are taking an advice from Max
Merech, our designer. It's a funny thing about that feller, Mr.
Gans--with garments he is right up to the minute, _aber mit_ furniture
nothing suits him unless it would be anyhow a hundred years old."

"So you are buying some antique furniture for your flat?" B. Gans
commented, and Elkan nodded.

"We made a start anyhow," he said. "We bought a couple Jacobson
chairs--two hundred and fifty years old already."

"Good!" B. Gans exclaimed. "I want to tell you, Elkan, you couldn't go
far wrong if you would buy any piece of furniture over a hundred years
old. They didn't know how to make things ugly in them days--and Jacobean
chairs especially. I am furnishing my whole dining room in that period
and my library in Old French. It costs money, Elkan, but it's worth
it."

Elkan nodded and steered