"Bid him not depart." Shagarach was already in the narrow entry, with the door closed behind him, and the stupefied woman in front. "Simon Rabofsky," he cried, after the form which was disappearing through a rear door. It stopped reluctantly.
"I wish to confer with you and with Moses Cohen. He is there. I saw him through the window. The others may go or stay, as they please."
Cohen and Rabofsky stood before Shagarach in the store.
"Sit down. Draw down the curtain," said the lawyer to Mrs. Silberstein, who with her husband and the others stood on the threshold listening.
"'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord. As an interpreter of the scriptures, you have met that text, Simon Rabofsky?"
"It is graven on my heart," said the money-lender, with unction.
"Liar, thief and hypocrite!" cried Shagarach, "you are as vindictive as the viper, who stings the hand of his benefactor. Our conference shall be short. I spare your white hairs before these people who respect you. See to it that I walk through this street unmolested and I may forbear for a time to punish you for the perjury you committed and the receipt of stolen articles."
"I had not known the people of Israel so far forgot their good teachings," said Rabofsky, "as to insult a peaceful passer-by, like the gentile ruffians."
"Go forth without excuses," said Shagarach sternly.
"I will gladly remind them," said the cowed usurer, leaving the room.