Lawrence, standing still, addressed himself to the crowd.
"Gentlemen—and ladies!—because I believe there are some ladies among you—real ladies!—allow me to introduce to you Mr. Isaac Bernstein, usurer, Jew, who makes a speciality of dealing in forged bills. He keeps a school for forgers, where young penmen are trained in the delicate arts of imitating other people's signatures. He's been the cause of many a good man's being sent to gaol; where, one day, as sure as he's alive, he'll go to join them."
Mr. Bernstein stammered and stuttered.
"Don't—don't talk to me like that! The—the man's stark mad!"
"Not yet. Still sane enough to make the world acquainted with Isaac Bernstein, trafficker in forgeries."
With his open palm he struck the Jew a resounding blow on either cheek. The people roared with laughter. I turned to the lady.
"You see? I must go to him. I shall have to leave you."
"We will go together."
She kept close to my side as I went forward. I expected to see Lawrence repeat his assault. Bernstein stood looking at him, motionless, gasping for breath, as if he were on the verge of an
