“I want you to restore a broken—what shall I say—well, I believe it is a marble bust.” “Yes?” “I want you to do more than restore it, for I want you to do the job as quickly as possible.” “Possibility has its limits,” said Antonides. “Show me the article.” Freyberger went out and took from the cab the drawer wrapped in the sheet, brought it in and unwrapped it. Antonides examined the fragments. “I will restore it for you,” he said, after examining minutely several of the pieces and gauging in his mind the total number. “How long will it take?” “Oh—three days.” “That won’t do. I want it by to-morrow morning.” Antonides raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “Look here,” said Freyberger. “What will you charge to do it in three days?” “You must understand,” replied Antonides, “that I do not restore marble. I do not restore pictures now myself. I am getting old, Mr Freyberger.” “We are all doing that. What will you charge—” “Getting old,” continued Antonides, as though unconscious of the other’s question, “costs money; one has to call in help. I have secured an assistant, an Alsatian; his name is Lermina—” “Yes, yes, but—” “I taught him the art of restoration, the knowledge I have placed in that man’s head,” said the old gentleman, suddenly pretending to turn savage, “is worth a king’s ransom, and he has repaid me in the oldest coinage of the world—ingratitude—” “I know, but what will you charge—” “One moment, I wish to explain my position. Lermina is a genius.” “Yes, yes, I grant that—” “You know what geniuses are, just spoiled children; well, he is also about to get married—” “What the devil has that to do with me—” “One moment. A genius is bad enough to deal with, but a genius in love is infinitely worse. I ask Lermina to restore this bust, he accepts the commission, but he is in love and can’t be hurried. Three days, well, with seven pounds in my hand I believe I could undertake to persuade him to complete the thing in three days.” “Well,” said Freyberger, who knew his man right to the place where his heart ought to have been. “Three days won’t do for me. I must have the thing completed by to-morrow morning at ten o’clock.” Antonides said nothing, but, reaching down, produced an enormous snuff-box from under the counter, took a pinch, tapped the box, and put it back. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Come,” said Freyberger, patiently. “By ten o’clock to-morrow morning.” “It’s impossible.” “Nothing is impossible of this sort to you, if you are paid—” “I would have to sit up all night—” “Why, you said you had an assistant.” “I would have to sit up all night helping him; it would be a two mans’ job.” Then suddenly. “Twenty pounds?” “I’ll give you ten.” “I never haggle.” “I’ll give you ten.” “Not a penny under twenty, not a brass farthing, not a denier under twenty—look at my rent, look at my income-taxes to be paid. Five hundred pounds they robbed me of this year in income-taxes alone.”