He returned hastily to the office, for he knew that if Abe found them in conversation on his return he would impute the cancellation of the order to something Morris had said. Thus Felix was left alone in the showroom, save for Cesar Kovalenko, who plied a feather duster industriously among the sample-racks. As he worked, Cesar whistled a Russian melody, half sad, half cheerful, and Felix paused midway in the lighting of his cigar. It was the opening theme in the second movement of Tschaikovsky's Fourth Symphony; and Cesar's rendition of it was not only true to pitch but he managed to introduce certain nuances that to Felix proclaimed the born musician. "What's that you are whistling?" he inquired; and Cesar smiled. "Tschaikovsky's Fourt' Symphony," he replied, and then he reached around to his hip-pocket. "See; I am got music." He handed a paper-covered miniature score to Geigermann, who opened it at random. "Ha!" Felix exclaimed as his eye lit on a familiar phrase in the last movement. He hummed it over and Cesar joined him in a clear, musical barytone. They were thus engaged when a tall, broad-shouldered individual entered the showroom. "Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen," he said, "but is the boss in?" "In the office back there," Felix replied. "Will you tell him Mr. Gunther would like to see him?" the newcomer continued. "I will if you want me to," Felix said; "but I am here only a customer." "Excuse me," Mr. Gunther apologized. "I was talking about the other feller. However----" He proceeded to the office and engaged Morris in earnest conversation for several minutes. They returned to the showroom just as Cesar was replacing the score in his hip-pocket. The motion was too much for Mr. Gunther, whose occupation made him nervous; and he plunged his hand into his overcoat and brought out a shining metallic object. There was a sharp struggle and Cesar Kovalenko leaned against the partition with his wrists encircled by a pair of handcuffs. "Come along quiet," said Mr. Gunther calmly, "or I'll knock yer block awff." At this juncture the elevator door banged open and Abe came into the showroom. "What is the matter here?" he cried. Mr. Gunther smiled. "I'm a United States deputy marshal," he proclaimed, "and I'm arresting this guy under a warrant duly issued in the Southern District of New York. I've got a taxicab downstairs and if any of you gentlemen is a friend of the prisoner youse can come along to the marshal's office." Morris darted into the office and reappeared with his hat and coat. "Abe," he said, "you stay here in the store. I would go down with him." Abe frowned. "One moment, Mawruss," he cried. "It don't go so quick as all that. First, we would find out what he makes this young feller arrested for." The deputy marshal nodded. "That's all right," he said. "You're entitled to know it. He's arrested on the complaint of the Russian Consulate for something he did in Russia two years ago."