"Mr. Frowenfeld, you know what some very excellent people do with this? They rub it on the sill of the door to make the money come into the house."
Joseph stopped aghast with the drawer half drawn.
"Not persons of intelligence and--"
"All kinds. It is only some of the foolishness which they take from the slaves. Many of your best people consult the voudou horses."
"Horses?"
"Priestesses, you might call them," explained the Creole, "like Momselle Marcelline or 'Zabeth Philosophe."
"Witches!" whispered Frowenfeld.
"Oh no," said the other with a shrug; "that is too hard a name; say fortune-tellers. But Mr. Frowenfeld, I wish you to lend me your good offices. Just supposing the possibility that that lady may be in need of money, you know, and will send back or come back for the purse, you know, knowing that she most likely lost it here, I ask you the favor that you will not let her know I have filled it with gold. In fact, if she mentions my name--"
"To confess the truth, sir, I am not acquainted with your name."
The Creole smiled a genuine surprise.