By this time Timothy had opened the gate and given admittance to the visitor. Tom Dorrell came up, held out his hand, and said in quick decisive tones—
“How d’you do, Mr.——?”
“Schwab, sir—Hildebrand Schwab, rebresentative of ze firma Schlagintwert, all orders punctually eggzecuted.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Very busy, you know; if you had given me notice——”
“Ach! I come on ze hop, sir.”
Tom smiled.
“Well, glad to see you, anyway. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Sir, zat is vat I ask you. You give orders, first class, for our Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six; but my firma zink you do not know, perhaps, zat zey do many ozer zinks beside Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. Vy, zere is nozink vat ve do not do, nozink at all. Ve can supply anyzink—soft goots, musical boxes, hair oil——”
“I know, I know,” said Tom. “I have your price list.”
“But not ze new vun—revise and correck carte,” returned Schwab, pulling from his pocket a bulky volume in red paper cover. “Viz gompliments!”