“How came the original colour to be lost?” I asked. Rosnofsky looked at me for a moment. Then he shook his head.
“That scamp has upset me completely,” he said. “Some other time I will tell you. Just now I can think of nothing but the effrontery of that scoundrel.”
“What makes you so bitter toward him?” I ventured to ask.
“Bitter! Bitter! He wants to marry Miriam. The audacity of the wretch! My only child. And here he practically tells me to my face that he has been making love to her, and that he has ascertained that she is in love with him. And I never knew it. Never even suspected it. A curse on the scamp! Sneaking into my home to steal my daughter from me. The dishonourable villain! I trusted him. The viper. May he suffer a million torments! May the fiends possess him!”
I ventured to suggest that it was the way of the world. I departed. Somewhat hastily. I did not like the way he glared at me.
The next time I saw Rosnofsky he was walking excitedly up and down his shop, tearing his hair en route. When he saw me he sprang forward and clutched me by the shoulder.
“Here!” he cried. “I will leave it to you. You were here when he had the audacity to confess his guilt to my face. Read this.” He thrust a crumpled piece of paper into my hand. “Read it, and tell me if there is another such villain upon this earth. Oh, I shall go mad!”
I read it. It was from Lazarus.
“I told you that I loved your daughter,” he wrote. “I told you that she loved me. And, like an honest man, I asked you to consent to our marriage. You refused. I now appeal to you again. You will make us both very happy by giving your consent, as we would like you to be present at the wedding. If you do not give your consent, we will not invite you. But we will get married, anyway. We will elope at the first opportunity. The only way to stop it is to keep Miriam locked in the house. Then I shall call in the police.”
It was signed, “Lovingly, your son-in-law-to-be.”