"Yes, Mawruss," Abe Potash said to his partner as they stood together
and surveyed the wild disorder of their business premises, "one removal
is worser as a fire."
"Sure it is," Morris Perlmutter agreed. "A fire you can insure it, Abe,
but a removal is a risk what you got to take yourself; and you're bound
to make it a loss."
"Not if you got a little system, Mawruss," Abe went on. "The trouble
with us is, Mawruss, we ain't got no system. In less than three weeks
already we got to move into the loft on Nineteenth Street, Mawruss, and
we ain't even made up our minds about the fixtures yet."
"The fixtures!" Morris cried. "For why should we make up our minds about
the fixtures, Abe?"
"We need to have fixtures, Mawruss, ain't it?"
"What's the matter with the fixtures what we got it here, Abe?" Morris
asked.
"Them ain't fixtures what we got it here, Mawruss," Abe replied. "Junk
is what we got it here, Mawruss, not fixtures. If we was to move them
bum-looking racks and tables up to Nineteenth Street, Mawruss, it would
be like an insult to our customers."
"Would it?" Morris replied. "Well, we ain't asking 'em to buy the
fixtures, Abe; we only sell 'em the garments. Anyhow, if our customers
was so touchy, Abe, they would of been insulted long since ago. For we
got them fixtures six years already, and before we had 'em yet, Abe,
Pincus Vesell bought 'em, way before the Spanish War, from Kupferman &
Daiches, and then Kupferman & Daiches----"
"S'enough, Mawruss," Abe protested. "I ain't asked you you should tell
me the family history of them fixtures, Mawruss. I know it as well as
you do, Mawruss, them fixtures is old-established back numbers, and I
wouldn't have 'em in the store even if we was going to stay here yet."
"You wouldn't have 'em in the store," Morris broke in; "but how about
me? Ain't I nobody here, Abe? I think I got something to say, too,
Abe. So I made up my mind we're going to keep them fixtures and move
'em up to the new store. We done it always a good business with them
fixtures, Abe."
"Yes, Mawruss, and we also lose it a good customer by 'em, too," Abe
rejoined. "You know as well as I do that after one-eye Feigenbaum, of
the H. F. Cloak Company, run into that big rack over by the door and
busted his nose we couldn't sell him no more goods."
"Was it the rack's fault that Henry Feigenbaum only got one eye, Abe?"
Morris cried. "Anyhow, Abe, when a feller got a nose like Henry
Feigenbaum, Abe, he's liable to knock it against most any thing, Abe; so
you couldn't blame it on the fixtures."
"I don't know who was to blame, Mawruss," Abe said, "but I do know that
he buys it always a big bill of goods from H. Rifkin, what's got that
loft on the next floor above where we took it on Nineteenth Street, and
Rifkin does a big business by him. I bet yer Feigenbaum's account is
easy worth two thousand a year net to Rifkin, Mawruss."
"Maybe it is and maybe it ain't, Abe," Morris rejoined, "but that ain't
here nor there. Instead you should be estimating Rifkin's profits, Abe,
you should better be going up to Nineteenth Street and see if them
people gets through painting and cleaning up. I got it my hands full
down here."
Abe reached for his hat.
"I bet yer you got your hands full, Mawruss," he grumbled. "The way it
looks, now, Mawruss, you got our sample lines so mixed up it'll be out
of date before you get it sorted out again."
"All right," Morris retorted, "we'll get out a new one. We don't care
nothing about the expenses, Abe. If the old fixtures ain't good enough
our sample line ain't good enough, neither. Ain't it? What do we care
about money, Abe?"
He paused to emphasize the irony.
"No, Abe," he concluded, "don't you worry about them samples, nor them
fixtures, neither. You got worry enough if you tend to your own
business, Abe. I'll see that them samples gets up to Nineteenth Street
in good shape."
Abe shrugged his shoulders and made for the door.
"And them fixtures also, Abe," Morris shouted after him.
The loft building on Nineteenth Street into which Potash & Perlmutter
proposed to move was an imposing fifteen-story structure. Burnished
metal signs of its occupants flanked its wide doorway, and the entrance
hall gleamed with gold leaf and plaster porphyry, while the uniform of
each elevator attendant would have graced the high admiral of a South
American Navy.
So impressed was Abe with the magnificence of his surroundings that he
forgot to call his floor when he entered one of the elevators, and
instead of alighting at the fifth story he was carried up to the sixth
floor before the car stopped.
Seven or eight men stepped out with him and passed through the door of
H. Rifkin's loft, while Abe sought the stairs leading to the floor
below. He walked to the westerly end of the hall, only to find that the
staircase was at the extreme easterly end, and as he retraced his
footsteps a young man whom he recognized as a clerk in the office of
Henry D. Feldman, the prominent cloak and suit attorney, was pasting a
large sheet of paper on H. Rifkin's door.
It bore the following legend:
CLOSED
BY ORDER OF THE FEDERAL RECEIVER
HENRY D. FELDMAN
Attorney for Petitioning Creditors
Abe stopped short and shook the sticky hand of the bill-poster.
"How d'ye do, Mr. Feinstein?" he said.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Potash," Feinstein cried in his employer's best
tone and manner.
"What's the matter? Is Rifkin in trouble?"
"Oh, no," Feinstein replied ironically. "Rifkin ain't in trouble; his
creditors is in trouble, Mr. Potash. The Federal Textile Company, ten
thousand four hundred and eighty-two dollars; Miller, Field & Simpson,
three thousand dollars; the Kosciusko Bank, two thousand and fifty."
Abe whistled his astonishment.
"I always thought he done it such a fine business," he commented.
"Sure he done it a fine business," the law clerk said. "I should say he
did done it a fine business. If he got away with a cent he got away with
fifty thousand dollars."
"Don't nobody know where he skipped to?"
"Only his wife," Feinstein replied, "and she left home yesterday. Some
says she went to Canada and some says to Mexico; but they mostly goes to
Brooklyn, and who in blazes could find her there?"
Abe nodded solemnly.
"But come inside and give a look around," Feinstein said hospitably.
"Maybe there's something you would like to buy at the receiver's sale
next week."
Abe handed Feinstein a cigar, and together they went into Rifkin's loft.
"He's got some fine fixtures, ain't it?" Abe said as he gazed upon the
mahogany and plate-glass furnishings of Rifkin's office.
"Sure he has," Feinstein replied nonchalantly, scratching a parlor match
on the veneered shelf under the cashier's window. The first attempt
missed fire, and again he drew a match across the lower part of the
partition, leaving a great scar on its polished surface.
"Ain't you afraid you spoil them fixtures?" Abe asked.
"They wouldn't bring nothing at the receiver's sale, anyhow," Feinstein
replied, "even though they are pretty near new."
"They must have cost him a pretty big sum, ain't it?" Abe said.
"They didn't cost him a cent," Feinstein answered, "because he ain't
paid a cent for 'em. Flaum & Bingler sold 'em to him, and they're one of
the petitioning creditors. Twenty-one hundred dollars they got stung
for, and they ain't got no chattel mortgage nor nothing. Look at them
racks there and all them mirrors and tables! Good enough for a saloon.
I bet yer them green baize doors, what he put inside the regular door,
is worth pretty near a hundred dollars."
Abe nodded again.
"And I bet the whole shooting-match don't fetch five hundred dollars at
the receiver's sale," Feinstein said.
"Why, I'd give that much for it myself," Abe cried.
Feinstein puffed away at his cigar for a minute.
"Do you honestly mean you'd like to buy them fixtures?" he said at last.
"Sure I'd like to buy them," Abe replied. "When is the receiver's sale
going to be?"
"Next week, right after the order of adjudication is signed. But that
won't do you no good. The dealers would bid 'em up on you, and you
wouldn't stand no show at all. What you want to do is to buy 'em from
the receiver at private sale."
"So?" Abe commented. "Well, how would I go about that?"
Feinstein pulled his hat over his eyes and, resting his cigar on the top
of Rifkin's desk with the lighted end next to the wood, he drew Abe
toward the rear of the office.
"Leave that to me," he said mysteriously. "Of course, you couldn't
expect to get them fixtures much under six hundred dollars at private
sale, because it's got to be done under the direction of the court; but
for fifty dollars I could undertake to let you in on 'em for, say, five
hundred and seventy-five dollars. How's that?"
Abe puffed at his cigar before replying.
"I got to see it my partner first," he said.
"That's all right, too," Feinstein rejoined; "but there was one dealer
in here this morning already. As soon as the rest of 'em get on to
this here failure they'll be buzzing around them fixtures like flies
in a meat market, and maybe I won't be able to put it through for you
at all."
"I tell you what I'll do," Abe said. "I'll go right down to the store
and I'll be back here at two o'clock."
"You've got to hustle if you want them fixtures," he said.
"I bet yer I got to hustle," Abe said, his eyes fixed on the marred
surface of the desk, "for if you're going to smoke many more cigars
around here them fixtures won't be no more good to nobody."
"That don't harm 'em none," Feinstein replied. "A cabinetmaker could fix
that up with a piece of putty and some shellac so as you wouldn't know
it from new."
"But if I buy it them fixtures," Abe concluded, as he turned toward the
door, "I'd as lief have 'em without putty, if it's all the same to you."
"Sure," Feinstein replied, and no sooner had Abe disappeared into the
hall than he drew a morning paper from his pocket and settled down to
his duties as keeper for the Federal receiver by selecting the most
comfortable chair in the room and cocking up his feet against the side
of Rifkin's desk.
"Well, Abe," Morris cried as his partner entered the store half an hour
later, "I give you right."
"You give me right?" Abe repeated. "What d'ye mean?"
"About them fixtures," Morris explained. "I give you right. Them
fixtures is nothing but junk, and we got to get some new ones."
"Sure we got to get some new ones, Mawruss," Abe agreed, "and I seen it
the very thing what we want up at H. Rifkin's place."
"H. Rifkin's place," Morris exclaimed.
"That's what I said," Abe replied. "I got an idee, Mawruss, we should
buy them fixtures what H. Rifkin got."
"Is that so?" Morris retorted. "Well, why should we buy it fixtures what
H. Rifkin throws out?"
"He don't throw 'em out, Mawruss," Abe said. "He ain't got no more use
for 'em, Mawruss. He busted up this morning."
"You can't make me feel bad by telling me that, Abe," Morris rejoined.
"A sucker what takes from us a good customer like Henry Feigenbaum
should of busted up long since already. But that ain't the point,
Abe. If we're going to get it fixtures, we don't want no second-hand
articles."
"They ain't no second-hand articles, Mawruss," Abe explained. "They're
pretty near brand-new, and I got a particular reason why we should buy
them fixtures, Mawruss."
He paused for some expression of curiosity from his partner, but Mawruss
merely pursed his lips and looked bored.
"Yes, Mawruss," Abe went on, "I got it a particular reason why we should
buy them fixtures, Mawruss. You see, this here Rifkin got it the loft
right upstairs one flight from us, Mawruss, and naturally he's got it
lots of out-of-town trade what don't know he's busted yet, Mawruss."
"No?" Morris vouchsafed.
"So these here out-of-town customers comes up to see Rifkin. They gets
in the elevator and they says 'Sixth,' see? And the elevator man thinks
they says 'Fifth,' and he lets 'em off at our floor because there ain't
nobody on the sixth floor. Well, Mawruss, we leave our store door open,
and the customer sees Rifkin's fixtures inside, so he walks in and
thinks he's in Rifkin's place. Before he finds out he ain't, Mawruss, we
sell him a bill of goods ourselves."
Morris stared at Abe in silent contempt.
"Of course, Mawruss," Abe went on, "I'm only saying they might do this,
y'understand, and certainly it would only be for the first week or so
what we are there, ain't it? But if we should only get it one or two
customers that way, Mawruss, them fixtures would pay for themselves."
"Dreams you got it, Abe," Morris cried. "You think them customers would
be blind, Abe? Ain't they got eyes in their head? Since when would they
mistake a back number like you for an up-to-date feller like Rifkin,
Abe?"
"Maybe I am a back number, Mawruss," Abe replied, "but I know a bargain
when I see it. Them fixtures is practically this season's goods already.
Why, H. Rifkin ain't even paid for them yet."
"There ain't no seasons in fixtures, Abe," Morris replied, "and besides,
a feller like Rifkin could have it fixtures for ten years without paying
for 'em. He could get 'em on the installment plan and give back a
chattel mortgage, Abe. You couldn't tell me nothing about fixtures, Abe,
because I know all about it."
"You don't seem to know much about it this morning when I spoke to you,
Mawruss," Abe retorted.
"Sure not," Morris said, "but I learned it a whole lot since. I got to
thinking it over after you left. So I rings up a feller by the name
Flachsman, what is corresponding secretary in the District Grand Lodge
of the Independent Order Mattai Aaron, which I belong it. This here
Flachsman got a fixture business over on West Broadway."
Abe nodded. He lit a fresh cigar to sustain himself against impending
bad news.
"And this here Flachsman comes around here half an hour ago and shows
me pictures from fixtures, Abe; and he got it such elegant fixtures like
a bank or a saloon, which he could put it in for us for two thousand
dollars."
"Two thousand dollars!" Abe cried.
"Well, twenty-two fifty," Morris amended. "Comes to about the same with
cash discount. Flachsman tells me he seen the kind of loft we got and
knows it also the measurements; so I think to myself what's the use
waiting. Abe wants it we should buy the fixtures, and we ain't got no
time to lose. So I signed the contract."
Abe sat down heavily in the nearest chair and pushed his hat back from
his forehead.
"Yes, Mawruss," he said bitterly, "that's the way it goes when a
feller's got a partner what is changeable like Paris fashions. You are
all plain one minute, and the next you are all soutache and buttons.
This morning you wouldn't buy no fixtures, not if you could get 'em for
nix, and a couple hours later you throw it away two thousand dollars in
the streets."
Morris glared indignantly at his partner.
"You are the changeable one, Abe," he cried, "not me. This morning old
fixtures to you is junk. Ain't it? You got to have new fixtures and
that's all there is to it. But now, Abe, new fixtures is poison to you,
and you got to have second-hand fixtures. What's the matter with you,
anyway, Abe?"
"I told it you a dozen times already, Mawruss," Abe replied, "them ain't
no exactly second-hand fixtures what Rifkin got it. Them fixtures is
like new--fine mahogany partitions and plated glass."
"That's what we bought it, Abe," Morris said, "fine mahogany partitions
with plated glass. If you wouldn't jump so much over me, I would of
told you about it."
Abe shrugged despairingly.
"Go ahead," he said. "I ain't jumping over you."
"Well, in the first place, Abe," Morris went on, "there's a couple of
swinging doors inside the hall door."
"Just like Rifkin's," Abe interrupted.
"Better as Rifkin's," Morris exclaimed. "Them doors is covered with
goods, Abe, and holes in each door with glass into it."
"Sure, I know," Abe replied. "Rifkin's doors got green cashmere onto 'em
like a pool table."
"Only new, not second-hand," Morris added. "Then, when you get through
them doors, on the left side is the office with mahogany partitions and
plated glass, with a hole into it like a bank already."
"Sure! The same what I seen it up at Rifkin's, Mawruss," Abe broke in
again.
Morris drew himself up and scowled at Abe.
"How many times should I tell it you, Abe," he cried, "them fixtures
what Flachsman sells it us is new, and not like Rifkin's."
"Go ahead, Mawruss," Abe replied. "Let's hear it."
"Over the hole is a sign, Cashier," Morris continued.
Abe was about to nod again, but at a warning glance from Morris he
thought better of it.
"But I told it Flachsman we ain't got no cashier, only a bookkeeper,"
Morris said, "and so he says he could put it Bookkeeper over the hole.
Inside the office is two desks, one for you and me, and a high one for
the bookkeeper behind the hole. On the right-hand side as you go inside
them pool-table doors is another mahogany partition, and back of that is
the cutting-room already. Then you walk right straight ahead, and
between them two partitions is like a hall-way, what leads to the front
of the loft, and there is the show-room with showcases, racks and tables
like what I got it a list here."
"And the whole business will cost it us two thousand dollars, Mawruss,"
Abe commented.
"Two thousand two hundred and fifty," Morris said.
"Well, all I got to say is we would get it the positively same identical
thing by H. Rifkin's place for six hundred dollars," Abe concluded.
He rose to his feet and took off his hat and coat.
"What did you say this here feller Flachsman was in the district lodge
of the I. O. M. A., Mawruss?" he inquired.
"Corresponding secretary," Morris replied. "What for you ask, Abe?"
"Oh, nothing," Abe replied as he turned away. "Only, I was wondering
what he would soak us for them fixtures, Mawruss, if he would of been
Grand Master."
Ten days afterward the receiver in bankruptcy sold Rifkin's stock and
fixtures at auction, and when Abe and Morris took possession of their
new business premises on the first of the following month the topic of
H. Rifkin's failure had ceased to be of interest to the cloak and suit
trade. Morris alone harped upon it.
"Well, Abe," he said for the twentieth time, gazing proudly around him,
"what's the matter with them fixtures what we got it? Huh? Ain't them
fixtures got H. Rifkin skinned to death?"
Abe shook his head solemnly.
"Mind you, Mawruss," he began, "I ain't saying them fixtures what we got
it ain't good fixtures, y'understand; but they ain't one, two, six with
H. Rifkin's fixtures."
"That's what you say, Abe," Morris retorted, "but Flachsman says
different. I seen him at the lodge last night, and he tells me them
fixtures what H. Rifkin got it was second quality, Abe. Flachsman says
they wouldn't of stood being took down and put up again. He says he
wouldn't sell them fixtures as second-hand to an East Broadway concern,
without being afraid for a comeback."
"Flachsman don't know what he's talking about," Abe declared hotly.
"Them fixtures was A Number One. I never seen nothing like 'em before
or since."
"Bluffs you are making it, Abe," Morris replied. "You seen them fixtures
for ten minutes, maybe, Abe, and in such a short time you couldn't tell
nothing at all about 'em."
"Couldn't I, Mawruss?" Abe said. "Well, them fixtures was the kind what
you wouldn't forget it if you seen 'em for only five minutes. I bet yer
I would know them anywhere, Mawruss, if I seen them again, and what we
got it here from Flachsman is a weak imitation, Mawruss. That's all."
At this juncture a customer entered, and for half an hour Morris busied
himself displaying the line. In the meantime Abe went out to lunch, and
when he entered the building on his return a familiar, bulky figure
preceded him into the doorway.
"Hallo!" Abe cried, and the bulky figure stopped and turned around.
"Hallo yourself!" he said.
"You don't know me, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe went on.
"Why, how d'ye do, Mr. Potash?" Feigenbaum exclaimed. "What brings you
way uptown here?"
"We m----" Abe commenced--"that is to say, I come up here to see a
party. I bet yer we're going to the same place, Mr. Feigenbaum."
"Maybe," Mr. Feigenbaum grunted.
"Sixth floor, hey?" Abe cried jocularly, slapping Mr. Feigenbaum on
the shoulder.
Mr. Feigenbaum's right eye assumed the glassy stare which was permanent
in his left.
"What business is that from yours, Potash?" he asked.
"Excuse me, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe said with less jocularity, "I didn't
mean it no harm."
Together they entered the elevator, and Abe created a diversion by
handing Mr. Feigenbaum a large, black cigar with a wide red-and-gold
band on it. While Feigenbaum was murmuring his thanks the elevator man
stopped the car at the fifth floor.
"Here we are!" Abe cried, and hustled out of the elevator ahead of Mr.
Feigenbaum. He opened the outer door of Potash & Perlmutter's loft with
such rapidity that there was no time for Feigenbaum to decipher the sign
on its ground-glass panel, and the next moment they stood before the
green-baize swinging doors.
"After you, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe said. He followed his late customer up
the passageway between the mahogany partitions, into the show-room.
"Take a chair, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe cried, dragging forward a
comfortable, padded seat, into which Feigenbaum sank with a sigh.
"I wish we could get it furniture like this up in Bridgetown,"
Feigenbaum said. "A one-horse place like Bridgetown you can't get
nothing there. Everything you got to come to New York for. We are dead
ones in Bridgetown. We don't know nothing and we don't learn nothing."
"That's right, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe said. "You got to come to New York
to get the latest wrinkles about everything."
With one comprehensive motion he drew forward a chair for himself and
waved a warning to Morris, who ducked behind a rack of cloaks in the
rear of the show-room.
"You make yourself to home here, Potash, I must say," Feigenbaum
observed.
Abe grunted inarticulately and handed a match to Feigenbaum, who lit his
cigar, a fine imported one, and blew out great clouds of smoke with
every evidence of appreciative enjoyment.
"Where's Rifkin?" he inquired between puffs.
Abe shook his head and smiled.
"You got to ask me something easier than that, Mr. Feigenbaum," he
murmured.
"What d'ye mean?" Feigenbaum cried, jumping to his feet.
"Ain't you heard it yet?" Abe asked.
"I ain't heard nothing," Feigenbaum exclaimed.
"Then sit down and I'll tell you all about it," Abe said.
Feigenbaum sat down again.
"You mean to tell me you ain't heard it nothing about Rifkin?"
Abe went on.
"Do me the favor, Potash, and spit it out," Feigenbaum broke in
impatiently.
"Well, Rifkin run away," Abe announced.
"Run away!"
"That's what I said," Abe went on. "He made it a big failure and skipped
to the old country."
"You don't tell me!" Feigenbaum said. "Why, I used to buy it all my
goods from Rifkin."
Abe leaned forward and placed his hand on Feigenbaum's knees.
"I know it," he murmured, "and oncet you used to buy it all your goods
from us, Mr. Feigenbaum. I assure you, Mr. Feigenbaum, I don't want to
make no bluffs nor nothing, but believe me, the line of garments what we
carry and the line of garments what H. Rifkin carried, there ain't no
comparison. Merchandise what H. Rifkin got in his place as leaders
already, I wouldn't give 'em junk room."
Mr. Feigenbaum nodded.
"Well, the fixtures what you was carrying at one time, Potash, I
wouldn't give 'em junk room neither," Feigenbaum declared. "You're lucky
I didn't sue you in the courts yet for busting my nose against that high
rack of yours. I ain't never recovered from that accident what I had in
your place, Potash. I got it catarrh yet, I assure you."
"Accidents could happen with the best regulations, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe
cried, "and you see that here we got it a fine new line of fixtures."
"Not so good as what Rifkin carried," Feigenbaum said.
"Rifkin carried fine fixtures, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe admitted, "but not
so fine as what we got. We got it everything up to date. You couldn't
bump your nose here, not if you was to get down on your hands and knees
and try."
"I wouldn't do it," Mr. Feigenbaum said solemnly.
"Sure not," Abe agreed. "But come and look around our loft. We just
moved in here, and everything we got it is new--fixtures and garments
as well."
"I guess you must excuse me. I ain't got much time to spare," Mr.
Feigenbaum declared. "I got to get along and buy my stuff."
Abe sprang to his feet.
"Buy it here!" he cried. He seized Feigenbaum by the arm and propelled
him over to the sample line of skirts, behind which Morris cowered.
"Look at them goods," Abe said. "One or two of them styles would
be leaders for H. Rifkin. For us, all them different styles is our
ordinary line."
In turn, he displayed the rest of the firm's line and exercised his
faculties of persuasion, argument and flattery to such good purpose that
in less than an hour Feigenbaum had bought three thousand dollars' worth
of garments, deliveries to be made within ten days.
"And now, Mr. Feigenbaum," Abe said, "I want you to look around our
place. Mawruss is in the office, and he would be delighted, I know, to
see you."
He conducted his rediscovered customer to the office, where Morris was
seated at the roll-top mahogany desk.
"Ah, Mr. Feigenbaum," Morris cried, effusively seizing the newcomer by
both hands, "ain't it a pleasure to see you again! Take a seat."
He thrust Feigenbaum into the revolving chair that he had just vacated,
and took the box of gilt-edge customers' cigars out of the safe.
"Throw away that butt and take a fresh cigar," he exclaimed, handing
Feigenbaum a satiny Invincible with the broad band of the best Havana
maker on it. Feigenbaum received it with a smile, for he was now
completely thawed out.
"You got a fine place here, Mawruss," he said. "Fixtures and everything
A Number One, just like Rifkin's."
"Better as Rifkin's," Morris declared.
"Well, maybe it is better in quality," Feigenbaum admitted; "but, I
mean, in arrangement and color it is just the same. Why, when I come in
here with Abe, an hour ago, I assure you I thought I was in Rifkin's old
place. In fact, I could almost swear this desk is the same desk what
Rifkin had it."
He rose to his feet and passed his hand over the top of the desk with
the touch of a connoisseur.
"No," he said at last. "It ain't the same as Rifkin's. Rifkin's desk was
a fine piece of Costa Rica mahogany without a flaw. I used to be in the
furniture business oncet, you know, Mawruss, and so I can tell."
Abe flashed a triumphant grin on Morris, who frowned in reply.
"But ain't this here desk that--now--what-yer-call-it mahogany, too, Mr.
Feigenbaum?" Morris asked.
"Well, it's Costa Rica mahogany, all right," Feigenbaum said, "but it's
got a flaw into it."
"A flaw?" Morris and Abe exclaimed with one voice.
[Illustration: LOOK AT THEM GOODS.]
"Sure," Mr. Feigenbaum continued. "It looks to me like somebody laid
a cigar on to it and burned a hole there. Then some cabinetmaker fixed
it up yet with colored putty and shellac. Nobody would notice nothing
except an expert like me, though."
Feigenbaum looked at Morris' glum countenance with secret enjoyment, but
when he turned to Abe he was startled into an exclamation, for Abe's
face was ashen and large beads of perspiration stood out on his
forehead.
"What's the matter, Abe?" Feigenbaum cried. "Are you sick?"
"My stummick," Abe murmured. "I'll be all right in a minute!"
Feigenbaum took his hat and coat preparatory to leaving.
"Well, boys," he said genially, "you got to excuse me. I must be
moving on."
"Wait just a minute," Abe said. "I want you to look at something."
He led Feigenbaum out of the office and down the passageway between the
mahogany partitions. In front of the little cashier's window Abe stopped
and pointed to the shelf and panel beneath.
"Mr. Feigenbaum," he said in shaking tones, "do you see something
down there?"
Mr. Feigenbaum examined the woodwork closely.
"Yes, Abe," he answered. "I see it that some loafer has been striking
matches on it, but it's been all fixed up so that you wouldn't notice
nothing."
"S'enough," Abe cried. "I'm much obliged to you."
In silence Abe and Morris ushered Mr. Feigenbaum to the outer door, and
as soon as it closed behind him the two partners faced each other.
"What difference does it make, Abe?" Morris said. "A little hole and a
little scratch don't amount to nothing."
Abe gulped once or twice before he could enunciate.
"It don't amount to nothing, Mawruss," he croaked. "Oh, no, it don't
amount to nothing, but sixteen hundred and fifty dollars."
"What d'ye mean?" Morris exclaimed.
"I mean this," Abe thundered: "I mean, we paid twenty-two hundred and
fifty dollars for what we could of bought for six hundred dollars. Them
fixtures what we bought it from Flachsman, he bought it from Rifkin's
bankruptcy sale. I mean that these here fixtures are the positively same
identical fixtures what I seen it upstairs in H. Rifkin's loft."
It was now Morris' turn to change color, and his face assumed a sickly
hue of green.
"How do you know that?" he gasped.
"Because I was in Rifkin's old place when that lowlife Feinstein, what
works for Henry D. Feldman, had charge of it after the failure; and I
seen Feinstein strike them matches and put his seegar on the top from
the desk."
He led the way back to the office and once more examined the flaw in
the mahogany.
"Yes, Mawruss," he said, "two thousand two hundred and fifty dollars we
got to pay it for this here junk. Twenty-two hundred and fifty dollars,
Mawruss, you throw it into the street for damaged, second-hand stuff
what ain't worth two hundred."
"Why, you say it yourself you wanted to pay six hundred for it, Abe,"
Morris protested, "and you said it was first-class, A Number One
fixtures."
"Me, Mawruss!" Abe exclaimed. "I'm surprised to hear you should talk
that way, Mawruss. I knew all the time that them fixtures was bum stuff.
I only wanted to buy 'em because I thought that they would bring us some
of Rifkin's old customers, Mawruss, and I was right."
"You're always right, Abe," Morris retorted. "Maybe you was right when
you said Feinstein made them marks, Abe, and maybe you wasn't. Feinstein
ain't the only one what scratches matches and smokes seegars, Abe. You
smoke, too, Abe."
"All right, Mawruss," Abe said. "I scratched them matches and burnt that
hole, if you think so; but just the same, Mawruss, if I did or if I
didn't, Ike Flachsman done us, anyhow."
"How d'ye know that, Abe?" Morris blurted out. "I don't believe them
fixtures is Rifkin's fixtures at all, and I don't believe that Flachsman
bought 'em at Rifkin's sale. What's more, Abe, I'm going to get
Feinstein on the 'phone right away and find out who did buy 'em."
He went to the telephone immediately and rang up Henry D. Feldman's
office.
"Hallo, Mr. Feinstein," he said, after the connection had been made.
"This is Mawruss Perlmutter, of Potash & Perlmutter. You know them
fixtures what H. Rifkin had it?"
"I sure do," Feinstein replied.
"Well, who bought it them fixtures at the receiver's sale?"
"I got to look it up," Feinstein said. "Hold the wire for a minute."
A moment later he returned to the 'phone.
"Hallo, Mr. Perlmutter," he said. "They sold for three hundred dollars
to a dealer by the name Isaac Flachsman."