s, deprecatingly. "Now, too,
there is a sad look out for trade; the grass grows in the streets; the
country has had a heavy time of it. The best man did not know, when he
went to sleep at night, whether he should have a leg to stand on in the
morning."

"You have got through it, however, Tinkeles, and I presume you have not
found it so bad, after all. Sit down; I have something to say to you."

"Why should I sit down?" said the Jew, distrustfully, as Anton shut and
bolted the door. "In business one has no time for sitting down; and why
do you bolt the door? Bolts are not wanted; business disturbs no one."

"I have something to say to you in confidence," said Anton to the
trader. "It will do you no harm."

"Speak on, then, but leave the door open."

"Listen to me," began Anton. "You remember our last conversation when we
met upon our travels?"

"I remember nothing," said the broker, shaking his head, and anxiously
looking at the door.

"You gave me some good advice; and when I tried to hear further, I found
you had vanished."

"These are old stories," replied Tinkeles, with growing disquiet. "I
can't recall them now. I have something to do in the market; I thought
you wanted to speak to me on business."

"It is business about which we are treating, and it may be a profitable
business for you," said Anton, significantly. He went to his
writing-table, and, taking out a roll of money, laid it on the table
before Tinkeles. "This hundred dollars belongs to you if you give me the
information I want."

Tinkeles slyly glanced at the roll and replied, "A hundred dollars are
all very well, but I can't give you any information. I know nothing; I
can not remember. Whenever I see you," he irritably went on, "bad luck
follows; whenever I have had any thing to do with you, it has brought me
trouble and vexation."

Anton silently went to his desk and laid another roll of money by the
first. "Two hundred dollars! They are yours if you give me the
information I need," said he, drawing a square around them with a piece
of white chalk.

The Galician's eyes fastened greedily upon the square, to which Anton
kept silently pointing. Tinkeles at first pretended indifference, but
his eyes grew gradually keener, his gestures more restless. He shrugged
his shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and tried hard to shake off the
spell that bound him. At length he could bear it no longer; he reached
out his hands for the money.

"Speak first