Tinker said briefly that he had had a disappointment.
"Ah, they are terrible things, disappointments, when one is eleven years old," said Sir Tancred.

"Later in life they lose their edge." On his words there came into the dining room a rotund, middle-aged Jewish gentleman, coated with dust and wearing a harassed air.
"Look," said Sir Tancred, "that's Blumenruth, the Jungle millionaire." The financier gazed gloomily round the room, looking for a table.

At the sight of Sir Tancred, an idea seemed to strike him, his face brightened a little, and he came to them.
"How do you do, Sir Tancred Beauleigh ?" he said, shaking hands warmly.
"May I dine at your table?
I want a word with you, a word which may be profitable to both of us." "By all means," said Sir Tancred in the manner he always adopted towards profitable financiers of Hamburg extraction, a manner extremely condescending, without being offensive.
The financier sat down; smudged the dust across his face with a coloured silk handkerchief; and breathed heavily.

Then he looked at Tinker as though he would like him sent away.
"Anything you may say before him will go no further," said Sir Tancred, quick to mark the meaning of the look.

"Let me introduce you.