But in the pharmacy Einstein hazarded a test question. "Where's the old man, Ben?"
"Took one of the cheap Saturday afternoon boats from Hoboken for the other side," said Ben, handing Miss Daisy Vivian a "slight refreshment."
"Go alone?" said the curious Emil.
"Certainly," smartly said Timmins. "He is too mean to pay a woman's passage over the ferry, much less to the Old Country!"
Whereat, in the general laugh, the frightened Emil gladly observed that Timmins really knew nothing.
They were both, however, on their guard when the oily face of Adolph
Lilienthal suddenly appeared at the soda fountain.
The picture-dealer's crafty face shone with a benevolent smile as he said to Timmins, "I've mislaid Mr. Braun's address, the last one he gave me!" The two young men exchanged startled glances, but Timmins resolutely answered, "You must find it out for yourself. The boss didn't even tell me what steamer he sailed on. I was to see you about all."
And finally Adolph Lilienthal retired crestfallen. He dared not admit to the clerk the quarrel which had left him in Braun's power. "You'll have a letter surely, from him in a week or so," smoothly answered the cockney, finally.
And then the owner of the Newport Art Gallery sadly departed.
"I am in his power," he musingly said. "He knows all about me; and I nothing of him. He is a fiend, that fellow; and he will perhaps keep clear of my friends on the other side. He is too smart to commit himself." The only clue possible lay in watching the doltish London clerk. And on his way home the picture-dealer gave that up as hopeless. "Braun would never trust that fool. He's only a human sponge, a confirmed soak."