vat ve shall zee."

The clerk went out and a moment later Mr. Wynne appeared. He was
tall and rather slender, alert of eyes, graceful of person; perfectly
self-possessed and sure of himself, yet without one trace of egotism
in manner or appearance--a fair type of the brisk, courteous young
business man of New York. He wore a tweed suit, and in his left
hand carried a small sole-leather grip. For an instant he stood,
framed by the doorway, meeting the sharp scrutiny of the assembled
jewelers with a frank smile. For a little time no one spoke--merely
gazed--and finally:

"Mr. Latham?" queried Mr. Wynne, looking from one to the other.

Mr. Latham came to his feet with a sudden realization of his
responsibilities as a temporary host, and introductions followed. Mr.
Wynne passed along on one side of the table, shaking hands with each
man in turn until he came to Mr. Czenki. Mr. Latham introduced them.

"Mr. Czenki," repeated Mr. Wynne, and he allowed his eyes to rest
frankly upon the expert for a moment. "Your name has been repeated
to me so often that I almost feel as if I knew you."

Mr. Czenki bowed without speaking.

"I am assuming that this is the Mr. Czenki who was associated with
Mr. Barnato and Mr. Zeidt?" the young man went on.

"That is correct, yes," replied the expert.