"In that case," said the dealer, eagerly, "you may count upon me to forego my own profit in the transaction."
"That is all that one could ask," I answered, "and your offer is accepted in the same spirit as are your apologies. We will inform you later as to the upshot of the affair."
I arose. The Baron followed my example, and with M. Delmas still pattering his apologies behind us, we went out and got into our taxi. I told the chauffeur to go first to my office.
As soon as we were seated, Rosenthal broke into his harsh, discordant laugh.
"Herr Gott!" he rumbled, "I am not a fool, but belief me, I can make neither head nor tail of this affair."
"It will become more clear," said I, "when I tell you that Mr. Cuttynge is my half-brother, and that we are almost as alike, outwardly, as a pair of twins."
For a moment he stared. Then I saw the light of understanding glow out of his mottled eyes. He burst again into his great, harsh laugh.
"Py Chingo," says he, "Vat a business—vat a business. It vas this man Cuttynge that stole his vife's pearls. Himmel."
For a while he chewed on this idea in silence. Presently he said:
"Fere ve going now?"
"We will pass my office," said I, "and then return to the Club. There is a lot I want to say to you, and a taxi is no place to talk. Can you give me an interview, my dear Baron?"
