d said. Thus Felix was left alone in the showroom,
save for Cesar Kovalenko, who plied a feather duster industriously among
the sample-racks. As he worked, Cesar whistled a Russian melody, half
sad, half cheerful, and Felix paused midway in the lighting of his
cigar. It was the opening theme in the second movement of Tschaikovsky's
Fourth Symphony; and Cesar's rendition of it was not only true to pitch
but he managed to introduce certain nuances that to Felix proclaimed the
born musician.

"What's that you are whistling?" he inquired; and Cesar smiled.

"Tschaikovsky's Fourt' Symphony," he replied, and then he reached around
to his hip-pocket. "See; I am got music."

He handed a paper-covered miniature score to Geigermann, who opened it
at random.

"Ha!" Felix exclaimed as his eye lit on a familiar phrase in the last
movement. He hummed it over and Cesar joined him in a clear, musical
barytone. They were thus engaged when a tall, broad-shouldered
individual entered the showroom.

"Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen," he said, "but is the boss in?"

"In the office back there," Felix replied.

"Will you tell him Mr. Gunther would like to see him?" the newcomer
continued.

"I will if you want me to," Felix said; "but I am here only a customer."

"Excuse me," Mr. Gunther apologized. "I was talking about the other
feller. However----"

He proceeded to the office and engaged Morris in earnest conversation
for several minutes. They returned to the showroom just as Cesar was
replacing the score in his hip-pocket. The motion was too much for Mr.
Gunther, whose occupation made him nervous; and he plunged his hand into
his overcoat and brought out a shining metallic object. There was a
sharp struggle and Cesar Kovalenko leaned against the partition with his
wrists encircled by a pair of handcuffs.

"Come along quiet," said Mr. Gunther calmly, "or I'll knock yer block
awff."

At this juncture the elevator door banged open and Abe came into the
showroom.

"What is the matter here?" he cried.

Mr. Gunther smiled.

"I'm a United States deputy marshal," he proclaimed, "and I'm arresting
this guy under a warrant duly issued in the Southern District of New
York. I've got a taxicab downstairs and if any of you gentlemen is a
friend of the prisoner youse can come along to the marshal's office."

Morris darted into the office and reappeared with his hat and coat.

"Abe," he said, "you stay here in the store. I would go