'Show me the knife,' the Dictator said, taking for the first time some genuine interest in the discussion.
'Look at it,' Sarrasin said. 'Don't give it back to him.'
The Dictator took the knife in his hand, and, touching the spring with the manner of one who understood it, closed and opened the weapon several times.
'I know the knife very well,' he said; 'it has been brought into South America a good deal, but I believe it is Sicilian to begin with. Look here, my man, you say you are a ladies' slipper-maker?'
'Of course I am. Ain't I told you so?'
'Whom do you work for?'
'Works for myself, governor.'
'Where is your shop?'
'Down in the East End, don't you know?'
'I want to talk to you about the East End,' Mrs. Sarrasin struck in with her musical, emphatic voice. 'Tell me exactly where you live.'