“Why not?”

“Oh, lots of reasons.  I’m not a man to brag; if I want to do a good thing for Judaism, there’s no reason for all the world to know it.  Then again, from my position on all sorts of committees I shall be able to influence the communal advertisements in a way I couldn’t if people knew I had any connection with the paper.  So, too, I shall be able to recommend it to my wealthy friends (as no doubt it will deserve to be recommended) without my praise being discounted.”

“Well, but then what am I to say to the Committee?”

“Can’t you say you want to buy it for yourself?  They know you can afford it.”

Raphael hesitated.  “But why shouldn’t I buy it for myself?”

“Pooh!  Haven’t you got better use for your money?”

It was true.  Raphael had designs more tangibly philanthropic for the five thousand pounds left him by his aunt.  And he was business-like enough to see that Mr. Goldsmith’s money might as well be utilized for the good of Judaism.  He was not quite easy about the little fiction that would he necessary for the transaction, but the combined assurances of Mr. Goldsmith and his own common sense that there was no real deception or harm involved in it, ultimately prevailed.  Mr. Goldsmith left, promising to call again in an hour, and Raphael, full of new hopes, burst upon the Committee.

But his first experience of bargaining was no happier than the rest of his worldly experience.  When he professed his willingness to relieve them of the burden of carrying on the paper they first stared, then laughed, then shook their fists.  As if they would leave him to corrupt the Faith!  When they understood he was willing to pay something, the value of The Flag of Judah went up from less than twopence to more than two hundred pounds.  Everybody was talking about it, its reputation was made, they were going to print double next week.

“But it has not cost you forty pounds yet?” said the astonished Raphael.

“What are you saying?  Look at the posters alone!” said Sugarman.

“But you don’t look at it fairly,” argued De Haan, whose Talmudical studies had sharpened wits already super-subtle.  “Whatever it has cost us, it would have cost as much more if we had had to pay our editor, and it is very unfair of you to leave that out of account.”

Raphael was overwhelmed.  “It’s taking away with the left hand what you gave us with the right,” added De Haan, with infinite sadness.  “I had thought better of you, Mr. Leon.”

“But you got a good many twopences back,” murmured Raphael.

“It’s the future profits that we’re losing,” explained Schlesinger.