In the midst of this discussion--in which one side roared his
displeasure and the other answered in pantomime between shouts of his
own laughter--there came another knock at the door, and the owner of the
Monet walked in. He, too, was in a disturbed state of mind. He had heard
some things during the day bearing directly on Jack's credit, and had
brought a bill with him for the value of the picture.
He would like the money then and there.
Jack's manner with the dealer was even more lordly and condescending
than with the would-be buyer.
"Want a check--when--now? My dear sir! when I bought that Monet was
there anything said about my paying for it in twenty-four hours?
To-morrow, when my argosies arrive laden with the spoils of the far
East, but not now. I never pay for anything immediately--it would injure
my credit. Sit down and let me offer you a cigar--my governor imports
'em and so you can be assured they are good. By the way--what's become
of that Ziem I saw in your window last week? The Metropolitan ought to
have that picture.
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