s
equivalent.

Martha eyed the cluster of balls suspended above the door, and occupied
herself with a cursory examination of the contents of the front window,
to none of which, she said to herself, would she have given house-room
had the choice of the whole collection been offered her. She was about
to march into the shop and end the protracted interview when Pickert
flung himself out.

"I'm on--got him down fine! Listen--see if I've got this right! He wore
a black cape-coat buttoned up close-that's what you told me, wasn't
it?--and a kind of a slouch-hat. Been an up-town swell before he got
down and out? That kind of a man, ain't he? Smooth-shaven, with a droop
in his eye--speaks like a foreigner--English. Somethin' doin'!--Do you
know a man named Kling who keeps an old-furniture store up on Fourth
Avenue?"

"No, I don't know Kling and I don't want to know him. It will be dark,
and Rosenthal's 'll be shut up if I keep up this foolishness, and I'm
going to find my mistress. If you can't find Dalton, I will, when my
brother Stephen comes. Now you go your way and I'll go mine."

He waited until she had boarded a car, then wheeled quickly and dashed
up Third Avenue, crossing 26th Street at an angle, forging along toward
Kling's. He was through with the old woman. She was English, and so was
Dalton, and so, for that matter, was a man who, Blobbs had told him, had
"blown in" at Kling's about a year ago from nobody knew where. They'd
all help one another--these English. No, he'd go alone.

When he reached Otto's window he slowed down, pulled himself together,
and strolled into the store with the air of a man who wanted some one to
help him make up his mind what to buy. The holiday crowd had thinned for
a moment, and only a few men and women were wandering about the store
examining the several articles. Otto at the moment was in tow of a stout
lady in furs, who had changed her mind half a dozen times in the hour
and would change it again, Otto thought, when, as she said, she would
"return with her husband."

"Vich she von't do," he chuckled, addressing his remark to the newcomer,
"and I bet you she never come back. Dot's de funny ting about some
vimmins ven dey vant to talk it over vid her husbands, and de men ven
dey vant to see der vives. Den you might as vell lock up de shop--ain't
dot so? Vat is it you vant--one of dem tables? Dot is a Chippendale--you
can see de legs and de top."

"Yes, I see 'em," replied the de