She was plainly annoyed and excited, and, as Higgins tried to lace her, moved from her dressing-table to the sofa in a state of agitation.
“Take them or leave them, as you like,” she said, “but give me the money and go.”
The Jew took from his wallet a roll of banknotes and counted them.
“Six,” he began, but she waved him back.
“Don’t tell me how much it is. I don’t want to know.”
“Let the other lady count it,” the Jew said. “I don’t do business that way.”
Dan, who had laid down his overcoat and hat on a chair, came quietly forward, his hands in his pockets, and standing in front of the Jew, he said again:
“Now you look here—”
Letty Lane threw the money down on the dressing-table. “Please,” she cried to Dan, “let me have the pleasure of sending this man out of my room. You can go, Cohen, and go in a hurry, too.”
The Jew stuffed the pearls in his pocket and went by Dan hurriedly, as though he feared the young man intended to help him. But Dan stopped him: