long white beard, who limped, supported by a cane. Anatole caught the old fellow only in time to prevent his falling.
Ah sartainly beg yo' pahdon, he said with his most enchanting smile.
The octogenarian returned the smile.
'Pears to me, he squeaked, dat you's mos' unnacherly perlite fo' dis street at dis hour.
The Creeper's breast expanded a full two inches, causing his watch-chain, stretched to capacity, to drag a ring of jangling keys from his waistcoat pocket. Replacing the keys, he reflected that he could afford to be agreeable, even magnanimous, to harmless old gentlemen. Was there another sheik in Harlem who possessed one-tenth his attraction for the female sex? Was there another of whose muscles the brick-pressers, ordinarily quite free with their audible, unflattering comments about passers-by, were more afraid? As he meditated in this wise, his pride received an unexpected jolt. Under the bright lights in front of the Lafayette. Theatre, he discerned a pompous figure whose presence obliterated the smug cheerfulness from his heart.
A few years earlier Randolph Pettijohn had made his start in Harlem as a merchant of hot-dogs. His little one-storey shop, hugged between two towering buildings, had rapidly become popular. His frankfurters were excellent; his buns were fresh; his mustard beyond reproach. In a short time Pettijohn's business was so successful, the over-
