Now just at the moment that his employer was buying the roses Mr. Simpkins entered the apartment of Mrs. Mathusek and informed her of Tony’s arrest and incarceration.  He was very sympathetic about it, very gentle, this dapper little man with the pale gray eyes and inquisitive, tapirlike nose; and after the first moment of shock Mrs. Mathusek took courage and begged the gentleman to sit down.  There are always two vultures hanging over the poor—­death and the law; but of the two the law is the lesser evil.  The former is a calamity; the latter is a misfortune.  The one is final, hopeless, irretrievable; from the other there may perhaps be an escape.  She knew Tony was a good boy; was sure his arrest was a mistake, and that when the judge heard the evidence he would let Tony go.  Life had dealt hardly with her and made her an old woman at thirty-four, really old, not only in body but in spirit, just as in the middle ages the rigor of existence made even kings old at thirty-five.  What do the rich know of age?  The women of the poor have a day of spring, a year or two of summer, and a lifetime of autumn and winter.

Mrs. Mathusek distrusted the law and lawyers in the abstract, but Mr. Simpkins’ appearance was so reassuring that he almost counteracted in her mind the distress of Tony’s misfortune.  He was clearly a gentleman, and she had a reverential regard for the gentry.  What gentlefolk said was to be accepted as true.  In addition this particular gentleman was learned in the law and skilled in getting unfortunate people out of trouble.  Now, though Mr. Simpkins possessed undoubtedly this latter qualification, it was also true that he was equally skilled in getting people into it.  If he ultimately doubled their joys and halved their sorrows he inevitably first doubled their sorrows and halved their savings.  Like the witch in Macbeth:  “Double, double toil and trouble.”  His aims were childishly simple:  First, to find out how much money his victim had, and then to get it.

His methods were no more complicated than his aims and had weathered the test of generations of experience.  So: 

“Of course Tony must be bailed out,” he said gently.  “You don’t want him to spend the night in jail.”

“Jail!  Oh, no!  How much is the bail?” cried Tony’s mother.

“Only five hundred dollars.”  His pale gray eyes were watching her for the slightest sign of suspicion.

“Five hundred dollars!  Eoi!  Eoi!  It is a fortune!  Where can I get five hundred dollars?” She burst into tears.  “I have saved only one hundred and sixty!”

Mr. Simpkins pursed his lips.  Then there was nothing for it!  He reached for his hat.  Mrs. Mathusek wrung her hands.  Couldn’t the gentleman go bail for Tony?  He was such a dear, kind, good gentleman!  She searched his face hungrily.  Mr. Simpkins falteringly admitted that he did not possess five hundred dollars.

“But—­” he hesitated.

“Yes!”