The clock-maker turned again to de Bosky. "Come upstairs at once. I shall myself fry eggs for you, and bacon,--nice and crisp,--and my coffee is not the worst in the world, my friend. _His_ is abominable. And toast, hot and buttery,--ah, I am not surprised that your mouth waters!" "It isn't my mouth that is watering," said de Bosky, wiping his eyes. "Any fool could see that," said Mr. Bramble, scowling at the maladroit Mirabeau. It was two o'clock when Prince Waldemar de Bosky took his departure from the hospitable home of the two old men, and, well-fortified in body as well as in spirit, moved upon the stronghold of Mrs. Moses Jacobs. The chatelaine of "The Royal Exchange. M. Jacobs, Proprietor," received him with surprising cordiality. "Well, well!" she called out cheerily as he approached the "desk." "I thought you'd never get here. I been waitin' since nine o'clock." Her dark, heavy face bore signs of a struggle to overcome the set, implacable expression that avarice and suspicion had stamped upon it in the course of a long and resolute abstinence from what we are prone to call the milk of human kindness. She was actually trying to beam as she leaned across the gem-laden showcase and extended her coarse, unlovely hand to the visitor. "I am sorry," said he, shaking hands with her. "I have been extremely busy. Besides, on a hot day like this, I could get along very nicely without a fur coat, Mrs. Jacobs." "Sure!" said she. "It sure is hot today. You ought to thank God you ain't as fat as I am. It's awful on fat people. Well, wasn't you surprised?" "It was most gracious of you, Mrs. Jacobs," he said with dignity. "I should have come in at once to express my appreciation of your--" "Oh, that's all right. Don't mention it. You're a decent little feller, de Bosky, and I've got a heart,--although most of these mutts around here don't think so. Yes, sir, I meant it when I said you could tear up the pawn ticket and take the coat--with the best wishes of yours truly." "Spoken like a lady," said he promptly. He was fanning himself with his hat. "Mind you, I don't ask you for a penny. The slate is clean. There's the coat, layin' over there on that counter. Take it along. No one can ever say that I'd let a fellow-creature freeze to death for the sake of a five-dollar bill. No, sir! With the compliments of 'The Royal Exchange,'--if you care to put it that way." "But I cannot permit you to cancel my obligation, Mrs. Jacobs. I shall hand you the money inside of a fortnight. I thank you, however, for the generous impulse--" "Cut it out," she interrupted genially. "Nix on the sentiment stuff. I'm in a good humour. Don't spoil it by tryin' to be polite. And don't talk about handin' me anything. I won't take it." "In that case, Mrs. Jacobs, I shall be obliged to leave the coat with you," he said stiffly. She stared. "You mean,--you won't accept it from me?" "I borrowed money on it. I can say no more, madam."