e, "here is the bond signed by Mynheer Beresteyn wherein he orders
you to pay me the sum of 3,000 guilders in consideration of the services
which I have rendered him."

But Ben Isaje did not take the paper thus held out to him.

"It is too late," he said quietly, "to transact business to-night."

"Too late!" exclaimed Diogenes with a blunt oath. "What in thunder do
you mean?"

"I mean, sir, that you must try and curb your natural impatience until
to-morrow."

"But I will not curb mine impatience another moment, plepshurk," cried
the philosopher in a rage, "I have fulfilled my share of a bargain, 'tis
only a verdommte Keerl who would shirk paying his own share on the
nail."

"Nor would Mynheer Beresteyn desire me to shirk his responsibilities, I
assure you," rejoined the Jew suavely, "and believe me, sir, that you
will not lose one grote by waiting until the morrow. Let a good supper
and a comfortable bed freely offered you atone for this unimportant
delay. You still hold Mynheer Beresteyn's bond: to-morrow at the first
business hour you shall be paid."

"But why any delay at all?" thundered Diogenes, who indeed misliked this
way of doing business. "Why not pay me the money now?--at once, I will
gladly forego the supper and sit all night upon your doorstep, but have
my money in my pocket."

"Unfortunately, sir," said Ben Isaje with imperturbable amiability, "I
am quite helpless in the matter. I am not the sole master of this
business, my wife's brother shares my profits and my obligations.
Neither of us is at liberty to pay out a large sum of money, save in the
presence of the other."

"You and your partner know how to trust one another," said Diogenes with
a laugh.

The Jew made no comment on this, only shrugged his shoulders in that
calm manner peculiar to his race, which suggests the Oriental
resignation to compelling fate.

Diogenes--inwardly fuming--thought over the matter very quietly for a
few moments: it was obviously as useless to argue this matter out with
Ben Isaje, as it had been to combat his dictum anent the jongejuffrouw
spending the night under his roof, and as usual the wholesome lesson of
life which the philosopher had learnt so thoroughly during his
adventurous career stood him in good stead now: the lesson was the one
which taught him never to waste time, temper or words over a purposeless
argument.

That one shrug of Isaje's shoulders had told him with dumb eloquence
that no amount o