"Tell _the gentlemen_ of the Mahamad," said Manasseh, with reproving emphasis, "that I shall do myself the pleasure of being with them presently. Nay, pray don't hurry away, my dear Grobstock," he went on, resuming his place at the German magnate's side--"and so your wife is taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. In faith, 'tis an excellent regimen for the vapours. I am thinking of sending my wife to Buxton--the warden of our hospital has his country-seat there." "But you are wanted," murmured Grobstock, who was anxious to escape. He had caught the _Schnorrer's_ eye as its owner sunned himself in the archway, and it held him. "'Tis only a meeting of the Mahamad I have to attend," he said indifferently. "Rather a nuisance--but duty is duty." Grobstock's red face became a setting for two expanded eyes. "I thought the Mahamad was your chief Council," he exclaimed. "Yes, there are only five of us," said Manasseh lightly, and, while Grobstock gaped incredulous, the Chancellor himself shambled up in pale consternation. "You are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting," he panted imperiously. "Ah, you are right, Grobstock," said Manasseh with a sigh of resignation. "They cannot get on without me. Well, you will excuse me, I know. I am glad to have seen you again--we shall finish our chat at your house some evening, shall we? I have agreeable recollections of your hospitality." "My wife will be away all this month," Grobstock repeated feebly. "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Manasseh roguishly. "Thank you for the reminder. I shall not fail to aid you in taking advantage of her absence. Perhaps mine will be away, too--at Buxton. Two bachelors, ha! ha! ha!" and, proffering his hand, he shook Grobstock's in gracious farewell. Then he sauntered leisurely in the wake of the feverishly impatient Chancellor, his staff tapping the stones in measured tardiness. [Illustration: "'HA! HA! HA!' LAUGHED MANASSEH."] "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he observed affably as he entered the Council Chamber. "You have kept us waiting," sharply rejoined the President of the Mahamad, ruffled out of his regal suavity. He was a puffy, swarthy personage, elegantly attired, and he leaned forward on his velvet throne, tattooing on the table with bediamonded fingers. "Not so long as you have kept _me_ waiting," said Manasseh with quiet resentment. "If I had known you expected me to cool my heels in the corridor I should not have come, and, had not my friend the Treasurer of the Great Synagogue opportunely turned up to chat with me, I should not have stayed." "You are impertinent, sir," growled the President. "I think, sir, it is you who owe me an apology," maintained Manasseh unflinchingly, "and, knowing the courtesy and high breeding which has always distinguished your noble family, I can only explain your present tone by your being unaware I have a grievance. No doubt it is your Chancellor who cited me to appear at too early an hour."