Before he had finished, the dealer had seized his arm, and, hurrying him into the store, pulled down a coat, on the merits of which he began to expatiate with voluble tongue.
"I don't want anything for myself," said Paul. "I want to buy a coat for a boy of twelve. Have you got anything of the right size?"
Paul need not have asked. The trader was keen at a sale, and if Barnum's giant had called for a second-hand suit, would have sworn boldly that he had the very thing. In the present case Paul found a coat which, as well as he could judge, would about fit Julius. At any rate, the street boy was not likely to be fastidious as to the quality or exact fit of a coat, which, at all events, would be a decided improvement upon the one he was now wearing.
"What is the price of this?" asked Paul.
"Five dollars," was the reply.
Paul was too well accustomed to the ways of Chatham street to pay the first price demanded, or the second or third. Finally he succeeded in getting the coat for one dollar and a half, which was cheap, although the dealer made a fair profit even at this price. Before the bargain was concluded, a tall man strayed in, and watched the bargaining with slight interest. Paul would have been not a little surprised had he known that this man was one of the burglars against whom he was contriving measures of defense. It was, indeed, Marlowe, who, having dexterously picked the pocket of a passenger on the Third avenue cars an hour before, found himself thirty dollars richer by the operation, and being himself out at elbows, had entered this shop on an errand similar to Paul's.
"What can I sell you?" asked the shopkeeper, to his new customer.
"I want a coat," said Marlowe, roughly; "good and cheap. Don't try any of your swindling tricks on me, for I won't stand them."
With the details of the negotiation that followed we have nothing to do. It is enough to say that this chance meeting between Paul and Marlowe was not without its results, though neither knew the other.