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nature, further aroused by the prospect of a Maggie-less fifteen days, demanded stimulation of some sort and Jansen was not the man to thwart himself, if he could help it.

CHAPTER 5
In which Twin Cheques Are Signed
    T HE picture-signing bee went off without a hitch, although Hjalmar had a rather narrow escape from painter’s cramp. The next morning, Evans, true to his promise, called on Hugo Weiss at the Plaza Athénée and was surprised to find that Gring had been there before him.
    â€˜Come right in, Mr Evans,’ boomed the hearty voice of Hugo Weiss. The multi-millionaire was clad in pyjamas and slippers, covered in part by a loose dressing gown of Persian brocade. The remains of a sumptuous German breakfast were spread on a table near the bedside, a stack of unopened mail rested loosely on the floor. There was no valet in the offing, although Weiss’s clothes were ranged neatly in the spacious closet. Except for the breakfast dishes and unopened mail, the large, sunny room was in order.
    â€˜I was afraid I might be too late,’ Evans said. ‘All the biographers of American millionaires would have us believe that they are at their desks by eight-thirty, or at least nine o’clock.’
    â€˜In the first place, I’m not American; I’m cosmopolitan. Secondly, I’m not a millionaire, but a multi-millionaire. And I never have had a desk… I’m really glad to see you. Where have you been all this time? You saved me, young man, from making a fool of myself... from being laughed at by that hypocrite, T. Prosper Stables….’
    â€˜It was nothing,’ said Evans.
    â€˜To me it was important,’ the older man said. ‘Not financially, of course. I’m more concerned with getting rid of money than with making it. But I’ll tell you a secret. I’m vain. I like to think that I’m perspicacious. I don’t like to be deceived....’
    Evans suddenly felt the warmth of the morning sunshine and mopped his forehead. ‘No. Naturally not,’ he said, uneasily. At that moment his scheme in Hjalmar’s behalf seemed transparent and ridiculous. They would be found out, exposed, and Hugo Weiss would be deeply offended. Even worse, he would be hurt. Still, Evans had no choice but to continue.
    â€˜I’ve come to you about a friend of mine, an artist named Hjalmar Jansen,’ he began.
    â€˜Jansen,’ repeated Weiss, trying to place the man…. ‘Oh, Jansen,’ he said. ‘The big Norwegian who drinks like a barracuda. Where is he? What is he doing? Why didn’t he ever come to see me in New York? ’
    â€˜You sent him to Paris,’ Evans said.
    â€˜Oh, yes. Paris, of course. To paint? Or was he a sculptor?’
    â€˜He paints,’ Evans said.
    â€˜Tell me all about him,’ the philanthropist said. ‘Ah, now it comes back to me ... a garret in Greenwich village… Luchow’s. That Würzburger. “Take me down, down, down where the Würzburger flows, flows, flows. It will drown, drown, drown all your troubles and cares and woes.” Very true, that, Evans, my boy. I had a good evening with the chap, and I’m glad he’s getting on. Straightforward sort of man, no nonsense. Didn’t try to impress me, didn’t pretend a lot of things that weren’t so. That’s what I like, Evans. An artist with self-respect and sincerity, one who doesn’t put on any dog, whose word is his bond. One who’s not afraid of work, who goes straight to his goal.... That’s Jansen, or I sized him up wrong, and I’m seldom mistaken about people,’ said Weiss.
    â€˜He was hoping you could see his work ... he owes so much to you....
    â€˜Owes me? Nonsense. Of course I’ll see his work. And by the way, do you suppose there’s any real beer in this city? He’d know it, if there is.’
    â€˜You’re very kind,’ said Evans. ‘When may we expect