Again Jack nodded. Isaac was either a mind reader or he must have
been listening at the keyhole when he poured out his heart to
Peter.
"Yes, that is what I thought when I saw you come in a little while
ago, dragging your feet as if they were lead, and your eyes on the
ground. The step and the eye, Mr. Breen, if you did but know it,
make a very good commercial agency. When the eye is bright and the
walk is quick, your customer has the money to pay either in his
pocket or in his bank; when the step is dull and sluggish, you
take a risk; when the eye looks about with an anxious glance and
the step is stealthy, and then when you take the measure for the
coat, both go out dancing, you may never get a penny. But that is
only to tell you how I know," the tailor chuckled softly. "And now
one thing more"--he was serious now--"when must you have this ten
thousand dollars?"
"Before Monday night."
"In cash?"
"In cash or something I can get cash on."
The tailor rose from his seat with a satisfied air--he had
evidently reached the point he had been striving for--laid the
stump of his cigar on the edge of the mantel, crossed the room,
fumbled in the side pocket of a coat which hung on a nail in an
open closet; drew out a small key; sauntered leisurely to his
desk, all the while crooning a tune to himself--Jack following his
every movement, wondering what it all meant, and half regretting
that he had not kept on to the ferry instead of wasting his time.
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