"'FAREWELL!' HE HISSED."
He vanished—the dandy started up full of vague alarm, forgetting even his hair in the mysterious menace of that terrifying sibilation.
"What do you mean?" he cried.
"I mean," said Manasseh, reappearing at the door, "that since the world was created, only two men have taken their clothes with them to the world to come. One was Korah, who was swallowed down, the other was Elijah, who was borne aloft. It is patent in which direction the third will go."
The sleeping chord of superstition vibrated under Manasseh's dexterous touch.
"Rejoice, O young man, in your strength," went on the Beggar, "but a day will come when only the corpse-watchers will perform your toilette. In plain white they will dress you, and the devil shall never know what a dandy you were."
"But who are you, that I should give you money for the Synagogue?" asked the Beau sullenly. "Where are your credentials?"
"Was it to insult me that you called me back? Do I look a knave? Nay, put up your purse. I'll have none of your filthy gold. Let me go."
Gradually Manasseh was won round to accepting ten sovereigns.
"For your father's sake," he said, pocketing them. "The only thing I will take for your sake is the cost of my conveyance. I had to post hither, and the Synagogue must not be the loser."