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145 THE KING OE SCIINORRERS. 145

Synagogue?" asked the Beau sullenly. "Where are your credentials? "

"Was it to insult me that you called me back? Do I look a knave? Nay, put up your purse. I'll have none of your filthy gold. Let me go."

Gradually Manasseh was won round to accepting ten sovereigns.

" For your father's sake," he said, pocketing them. " The only thing I will take for your sake is the cost of my con- veyance. I had to post hither, and the Synagogue must not be the loser."

Beau Belasco gladly added the extra money, and reseated himself before the mirror, with agreeable sensations in his neglected conscience. "You see," he observed, half apolo- getically, for Manasseh still lingered, " one cannot do every- thing. To be a prince of dandies, one needs all one's time." He waved his hand comprehensively around the walls which were lined with wardrobes. " My buckskin breeches were the result of nine separate measurings. Do you note how they fit?"

"They scarcely do justice to your eminent reputation," replied Manasseh candidly.

Beau Belasco's face became whiter than even at the thought of earthquakes and devils. " They fit me to burst- ing ! " he breathed.

" But are they in the pink of fashion? " queried Manasseh. " And assuredly the nankeen pantaloons yonder I recollect to have seen worn last year."

" My tailor said they were of a special cut — 'tis a shape I am introducing, baggy — to go with frilled shirts."

Manasseh shook his head sceptically, whereupon the Beau besought him to go through his wardrobe, and set aside anything that lacked originality or extreme fashionable-