"It is well to be careful, Abraham Letchowiski," he agreed softly. "Go back to the shop. Is supper ready?"
"There is a little cold fish upon the table," Letchowiski replied. "It is useless to wait for Rosa. We will sit down, you and I, when you wish."
A faint flicker of disgust crossed the face of the listener. He watched the disappearing figure of the old man. Then he half closed his eyes.
"It is the end," he reminded himself softly. "All that remains is to get away."
Mr. Harvey Grimm took off his overalls and looked at himself carefully in the glass. He was wearing a well-worn blue serge suit, a flannel shirt and collar, a faded wisp of blue tie. His black hair was plastered down on to his forehead, ending on one side in a little curl, after the fashion of the neighbourhood. The man was so consummate an actor that his very cast of features seemed to have assumed a Semitic aspect. He readjusted his spectacles, busied himself at the bench for a few more minutes, covered over the dynamo, and finally made his way stealthily into the shop. He paused for a moment with his hand upon the counter, listening to the old man who stood in the doorway. His fingers played with a tray of atrocious-looking pieces of cut-glass, set in common brass. Abraham Letchowiski, in one of his pauses for breath, glanced around and saw him.
"You have finished?" he asked eagerly.
"Finished," was the quiet reply. "Let us eat together."
The jeweller abandoned his place, which was promptly taken by the small boy.
"You go and have your supper, granfer," he begged. "I do some good business."
"Aren't you hungry?" the old man asked affectionately.