The cloud was not interfering with business, but, nevertheless, it was a cloud, and he fiercely resented its presence; perhaps it would be more correct to say that he fiercely resented his inability to dissipate it.
'Mr Sampson Levi wishes to see you, sir,' the servant repeated, having received no sign that his master had heard him.
'So I hear,' said Racksole.

'Does he want to see me, personally ?' 'He asked for you, sir.' 'Perhaps it is Rocco he wants to see, about a menu or something of that kind ?' 'I will inquire, sir,' and the servant made a move to withdraw.
'Stop,' Racksole commanded suddenly.

'Desire Mr Sampson Levi to step this way.' The great stockbroker of the 'Kaffir Circus' entered with a simple unassuming air.

He was a rather short, florid man, dressed like a typical Hebraic financier, with too much watch-chain and too little waistcoat.

In his fat hand he held a gold-headed cane, and an absolutely new silk hat--for it was Friday, and Mr Levi purchased a new hat every Friday of his life, holiday times only excepted.