During the ten days that followed, Jack gloated over the Monet and
staved off his various creditors until his father's semi-monthly
remittance arrived. Whenever the owner of the Monet mounted the stairs
by appointment and pounded at Jack's door, Jack let him pound, tiptoeing
about his room until he heard the anxious dealer's footsteps echoing
down the stairs in retreat.

On the day that the "governor's" remittance arrived--it came on the
fifteenth and the first of every month--Sam found a furniture van backed
up opposite Jack's studio street entrance. The gravity of the situation
instantly became apparent. The dealer had lost patience and had sent for
the picture; the van told the story. Had he not been sure of getting it
he would not have sent the van.

Sam went up three steps at a time and burst into Jack's studio. He found
its owner directing two men where to place an inlaid cabinet. It was a
large cabinet of ebony, elaborately carved and decorated, and the two
furniture men--judging from the way they were breathing--had had their
hands full in getting it up the three flights of stairs. Jack was
pushing back the easels and pictures to make room for it when Sam
entered. His first thought was for the unpaid-for picture.

"Monet gone, Jack?" he asked, glancing around the room hurriedly in his
anxiety to find it.

"Yea--last night. He came and took it away. Here," (this to the two men)
"shove it close to the wall," pointing to the cabinet. "There--now go
down and get the top, and look out you don't break those little drawers.
What's the matter with you, Samuel? You look as if somebody had walked
over your grave."