will inquire, sir,' and the servant made a move to withdraw.

'Stop,' Racksole commanded suddenly. 'Desire Mr Sampson Levi to step
this way.'

The great stockbroker of the 'Kaffir Circus' entered with a simple
unassuming air. He was a rather short, florid man, dressed like a
typical Hebraic financier, with too much watch-chain and too little
waistcoat. In his fat hand he held a gold-headed cane, and an absolutely
new silk hat--for it was Friday, and Mr Levi purchased a new hat every
Friday of his life, holiday times only excepted. He breathed heavily and
sniffed through his nose a good deal, as though he had just performed
some Herculean physical labour. He glanced at the American millionaire
with an expression in which a slight embarrassment might have been
detected, but at the same time his round, red face disclosed a certain
frank admiration and good nature.

'Mr Racksole, I believe--Mr Theodore Racksole. Proud to meet you, sir.'

Such were the first words of Mr Sampson Levi. In form they were the
greeting of a third-rate chimney-sweep, but, strangely enough, Theodore
Racksole liked their tone. He said to himself that here, precisely where
no one would have expected to find one, was an honest man.

'Good day,' said Racksole briefly. 'To what do I owe the pleasure--'

'I expect your time is limited,' answered Sampson Levi. 'Anyhow, mine
is, and so I'll come straight to the point, Mr Racksole. I'm a plain
man. I don't pretend to be a gentleman or any nonsense of that kind.
I'm a stockbroker, that's what I am, and I don't care who knows it. The
other night I had a ball in this hotel. It cost me a couple of thousand
and odd pounds, and, by the way, I wrote out a cheque for your bill this
morning. I don't like balls, but they're useful to me, and my little
wife likes 'em, and so we give 'em. Now, I've nothing to say against the
hotel management as regards that ball: it was very decently done, very
decently, but what I want to know is this--Why did you have a private
detective among my guests?'

'A private detective?' exclaimed Racksole, somewhat surprised at this
charge.

'Yes,' Mr Sampson Levi said firmly, fanning himself in his chair, and
gazing at Theodore Racksole with the direct earnest expression of a man
having a grievance. 'Yes; a private detective. It's a small matter, I
know, and I dare say you think you've got a right, as proprietor of the
show, to do what you like in that line; but I've just called to