"He wants nothing, sir," said Philip. "He sent me to you on a matter of business. It is of a private nature. Can you give me a few minutes alone?"
Isaacstein was a big-headed, big-shouldered man, tapering to a small point at his feet. He looked absurdly like a top, and surprise or emotion of any sort caused him to sway gently. He swayed now, and every clerk looked up, expecting him to fall bodily onto the urchin with the refined utterance who had dared to penetrate into the potentate's office with such a request.
Kimberley, Amsterdam and London combined to lend effect to Isaacstein's wit when he said:
"Is this a joke?"
All the clerks guffawed in chorus. Fortunately, Isaacstein was in a good humor. He had just purchased a pearl for two hundred and fifty pounds, which he would sell to Lady Somebody for eight hundred pounds, to match another in an earring.
"It appears to be," said Philip, when the merriment had subsided.
For some reason the boy's grave, earnest eyes conquered the big little man's amused scrutiny.
"Now, boy, be quick. What is it?" he said, testily, and every clerk bent to his task.
"I have told you, sir. I wish to have a few minutes' conversation with you with regard to business of an important nature."
"You say Mr. Wilson sent you—Mr. Wilson, of Grant & Sons?"