Even as the _Schnorrer_ spake it flashed upon Grobstock that Manasseh was more presentable with the salmon than without it--in fact, that the salmon was the salvation of the situation. When Grobstock bought fish he often hired a man to carry home the spoil. Manasseh would have all the air of such a loafer. Who would suspect that the fish and even the bag belonged to the porter, though purchased with the gentleman's money? Grobstock silently thanked Providence for the ingenious way in which it had contrived to save his self-respect. As a mere fish-carrier Manasseh would attract no second glance from the household; once safely in, it would be comparatively easy to smuggle him out, and when he did come on Friday night it would be in the metamorphosing glories of a body-coat, with his unspeakable undergarment turned into a shirt and his turban knocked into a cocked hat. They emerged into Aldgate, and then turned down Leman Street, a fashionable quarter, and so into Great Prescott Street. At the critical street corner Grobstock's composure began to desert him: he took out his handsomely ornamented snuff-box and administered to himself a mighty pinch. It did him good, and he walked on and was well nigh arrived at his own door when Manasseh suddenly caught him by a coat button. [Illustration: "ADMINISTERED A MIGHTY PINCH."] "Stand still a second," he cried imperatively. "What is it?" murmured Grobstock, in alarm. "You have spilt snuff all down your coat front," Manasseh replied severely. "Hold the bag a moment while I brush it off." Joseph obeyed, and Manasseh scrupulously removed every particle with such patience that Grobstock's was exhausted. "Thank you," he said at last, as politely as he could. "That will do." "No, it will not do," replied Manasseh. "I cannot have my coat spoiled. By the time it comes to me it will be a mass of stains if I don't look after it." "Oh, is that why you took so much trouble?" said Grobstock, with an uneasy laugh. "Why else? Do you take me for a beadle, a brusher of gaiters?" enquired Manasseh haughtily. "There now! that is the cleanest I can get it. You would escape these droppings if you held your snuff-box so--" Manasseh gently took the snuff-box and began to explain, walking on a few paces. "Ah, we are at home!" he cried, breaking off the object-lesson suddenly. He pushed open the gate, ran up the steps of the mansion and knocked thunderously, then snuffed himself magnificently from the bejewelled snuff-box. Behind came Joseph Grobstock, slouching limply, and carrying Manasseh da Costa's fish. CHAPTER II. SHOWING HOW THE KING REIGNED. When he realised that he had been turned into a fish-porter, the financier hastened up the steps so as to be at the _Schnorrer's_ side when the door opened. The livery-servant was visibly taken aback by the spectacle of their juxtaposition. "This salmon to the cook!" cried Grobstock desperately, handing him the bag. [Illustration: "'THIS SALMON TO THE COOK!'"]