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he knew he would have to pay for the days extravagance by a week of comparative abstemiousness, but recklessness generally meant magnificence with him.they occupied a cosy little corner behind a screen, and miss wynne bubbled over with laughter like an animated champagnebottle.one or two of his acquaintances espied him and winked genially, and leonard had the satisfaction of feeling that he was not dissipating his money without purchasing enhanced reputation.he had not felt in gayer spirits for months than when, with gladys wynne on his arm and a cigarette in his mouth, he sauntered out of the brilliantlylit restaurant into feverish dusk of the midnight street, shot with points of fire.hansom, sir? _levi!_ a great cry of anguish rent the air.leonards cheeks burnt.involuntarily he looked round.then his heart stood still.there, a few yards from him, rooted to the pavement, with stony, staring face, was reb shemuel.the old man wore an unbrushed high hat and an uncouth, unbuttoned overcoat.his hair and beard were quite white now, and the strong countenance, lined with countless wrinkles, was distorted with pain and astonishment.he looked a cross between an ancient prophet and a shabby streetlunatic.the unprecedented absence of the son from the _seder_ ceremonial had filled the rebs household with the gravest alarm.nothing short of death or mortal sickness could be keeping the boy away.it was long before the reb could bring himself to commence the _agadah_ without his son to ask the timehonoured opening question, and when he did he paused every minute to listen to footsteps or the voice of the wind without.the joyous holiness of the festival was troubled; a black cloud overshadowed the shining tablecloth; at supper the food choked him.but _seder_ was over, and yet no sign of the missing guest, no word of explanation.in poignant anxiety the old man walked the three miles that lay between him and tidings of the beloved son.at his chambers he learnt that their occupant had not been in all day.another thing he learnt there, too; for the _mezuzah_ which he had fixed up on the doorpost when his boy moved in had been taken down, and it filled his mind with a dread suspicion that levi had not been eating at the kosher restaurant in hatton garden, as he had faithfully vowed to do.but even this terrible thought was swallowed up in the fear that some accident had happened to him.he haunted the house for an hour, filling up the intervals of fruitless inquiry with little random walks round the neighbourhood, determined not to return home to his wife without news of their child.the restless life of the great twinkling streets was almost a novelty to him; it was rarely his perambulations in london extended outside the ghetto, and the radius of his life was proportionately narrow, with the intensity that narrowness forces on a big soul.the streets dazzled him; he looked blinkingly hither and thither in the despairing hope of finding his boy.his lips moved in silent prayer; he raised his eyes beseechingly to the cold glittering heavens.then all at once, as the clocks pointed to midnight, he found him.found him coming out of an unclean place, where he had violated the passover.found himfit climax of horrorwith the strange woman of the _proverbs_, for whom the faithful jew has a hereditary hatred.his sonhis, reb shemuels! he, the servant of the most high, the teacher of the faith to reverential thousands, had brought a son into the world to profane the name! verily, his grey hairs would go down with sorrow to a speedy grave! and the sin was half his own; he had weakly abandoned his boy in the midst of a great city.for one awful instant, that seemed an eternity, the old man and the young faced each other across the chasm which divided their lives.to the son the shock was scarcely less violent than to the father.the _seder_, which the days unwonted excitement had clean swept out of his mind, recurred to him in a flash, and by the light of it he understood the puzzle of his fathers appearance.the thought of explaining rushed up only to be dismissed.the door of the restaurant had not yet ceased swinging behind him; there was too much to explain.he felt that all was over between him and his father.it was unpleasant, terrible even, for it meant the annihilation of his resources.but though he still had an almost physical fear of the old man, far more terrible even than the presence of his father was the presence of miss gladys wynne.to explain, to brazen it outeither course was equally impossible.he was not a brave man, but at that moment he felt death were preferable to allowing her to be the witness of such a scene as must ensue.his resolution was taken within a few brief seconds of the tragic _rencontre_.with wonderful selfpossession, he nodded to the cabman who had put the question, and whose vehicle was drawn up opposite the restaurant.hastily he helped the unconscious gladys into the hansom.he was putting his foot on the step himself, when reb shemuels paralysis relaxed suddenly.outraged by this final pollution of the festival, he ran forward and laid his hand on levis shoulder.his face was ashen, his heart thumped painfully; the hand on levis cloak shook as with palsy.levi winced; the old awe was upon him.through a blinding whirl he saw gladys staring wonderingly at the queerlooking intruder.he gathered all his mental strength together with a mighty effort, shook off the great trembling hand, and leapt into the hansom.drive on! came in strange guttural tones from his parched throat.the driver lashed the horse; a rough jostled the old man aside and slammed the door to; leonard mechanically threw him a coin; the hansom glided away

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