"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 cheek throughout the first movement in a posture of earnest attention. "Why," he cried as the musician paused, "this man is a genius!" Max Merech nodded. His face was flushed and his eyes were filled with tears. "What did I told you, Mr. Lubliner?" he said; and Jassy raised his hand for silence while Volkovisk began the second movement. This and the succeeding movements fully sustained the promise of the earlier portions of the composition; and when at length Volkovisk rose from the piano stool and approached the table Kammerman jumped from his chair and wrung the composer's hand. "Sit in my chair," he insisted, and snapped his fingers at Marculescu, who fumed impotently behind the cashier's desk. "Here," he called; "more wine--and look sharp about it!" Marculescu obeyed sulkily and again the glasses were filled. "Gentlemen," Kammerman said, "and Mrs. Lubliner, I ask you to drink to a great career just beginning." "Lots of people said that before," Max murmured after he had emptied his glass. "They said it," Kammerman replied, "but I pledge it. You shall play no more in this place, Volkovisk--and here is my hand on it." Max Merech beamed across the table at his employer. "Well, Mr. Lubliner," he said, "you lost your chance." Elkan shrugged and smiled. "Might you could find another of them genius fellers for me maybe, Max?" he said.