The flunkey grinned. "You're the only gentleman I've seen to-night, sir, in a costume anything like your own."
"There's but one of me in the Union," said the gentleman, sententious: "my spear knows no brother."
"Thank you, sir," said the servant civilly, making off.
With an air of some dubiety, the little man watched him go.
"I say!" he cried suddenly—"come back!"
He was obeyed.
A second dollar bill appeared as it were by magic between his fingers. The flunkey stared.
"Beg pardon, sir?"
"Take it"—impatiently.
"Thank you." The well-trained fingers executed their most familiar manoeuvre. "But—m'y I ask, sir—wot's it for?"