"'On my conscience,' I answered, 'I cannot give more than seven.' 'Ah!' he replied, 'I do not know how to haggle.' He reflected a moment. 'It is well,' he said; 'I accept.' Gentlemen, when he said that, I felt that I had done a good day's work. Apart from the commission I had a clean profit of eighteen thousand dollars; and eighteen thousand dollars is a tidy sum--not to you, gentlemen, nor to Jones there, but to me." "Ged, the little cad is getting sarcastic." And Jones laughed quietly to himself and finished his brandy-and-soda. Mr. Fairbanks waved his arms and pounded the table so excitedly that he roused a waiter from a nap. "Yes, bring the same," he cried. "Now, gentlemen, I am coming to the point. I insist on your attention. _Mr._ Jones, I will thank _you_ not to interrupt--unless it happens that you care to aid me with the details. Yes, sir, I said details,--d-e-t-a-i-l-s. Now wait a minute, will you? Gentlemen, I appeal to you. He shall wait. Beat it into his head--can't you?--that I am coming to the point, and very interesting, I promise, you will all find it to be." "_Tu te vantes, mon bonhomme, tu te vantes._ Here's to you." "Here's to you. Well, gentlemen, it was then one o'clock. I always lunch at that hour, and I asked the Russian if he would let me offer him a bite. 'I would very much like to try a Sam Ward,' he said, 'and I might take some tea and a bit of toast.' 'That,' I replied, 'would be tasty with a little caviare.' I wanted to show him that, though a dealer in precious stones, I was first and foremost a man of the world." Alphabet Jones rolled over in spasms of delight. "Divinities of Pindar," he shouted, "listen to that!"