simple little things which a shipping clerk must got to do would _oser_
give anybody the nervous prostration."
"Is that so?" Markulies retorted. "Well, I ain't just the shipping clerk
here, Mr. Flaxberg. You must remember I am in charge with the keys also,
Mr. Flaxberg; and I got responsibilities if some one _ganvers_ a couple
sample garments once in a while, y'understand--right away they would
accuse me that I done it."
"Don't worry yourself, Markulies," Flaxberg said. "I ain't going to
_ganver_ no garments on you--not this morning anyhow."
"You I ain't worrying about at all," Markulies rejoined; "but that young
bloodsucker, Lubliner, Mr. Flaxberg--that's something else again.
Actually that young feller is to me something which you could really
call a thorn in my pants, Mr. Flaxberg. Just because he is assistant
cutter here and I am only the shipping clerk he treats me like I would
be the dirt under his feet. Only last night, Mr. Flaxberg, I am locking
up the place when that feller comes up the stairs and says to me I
should give him the key, as he forgets a package which he left behind
him. Mind you, it is already half-past six, Mr. Flaxberg; and ever since
I am living up in the Bronix, Mr. Flaxberg, I am getting kicked out of
six places where I am boarding on account no respectable family would
stand it, Mr. Flaxberg, that a feller comes, night after night, nine
o'clock to his dinner."
"You was telling me about Lubliner," Flaxberg reminded him.
"Sure, I know," Markulies continued. "So I says to him the place is
closed and that's all there is to it. With that, Mr. Flaxberg, the
feller takes back his hand--so--and he gives me a _schlag_ in the
stummick, which, honest, if he wouldn't be from Mr. Polatkin a relation,
Mr. Flaxberg, I would right then and there killed him."
For two minutes he patted gently that portion of his anatomy where
Elkan's blow had landed.
"He's a dangerous feller, Mr. Flaxberg," he went on, "because, just so
soon as he opens the door after I am giving him the key, Mr. Flaxberg,
he shuts it in my face and springs the bolt on me, Mr. Flaxberg--and
there I am standing _bis_ pretty near eight o'clock, understand me, till
that feller comes out again. By the time I am at my room on Brook
Avenue, Mr. Flaxberg, the way Mrs. Kaller speaks to me you would think I
was a dawg yet. How should I know she is getting tickets for the
theaytre that evening, Mr. Flaxberg? And anyhow, Mr. Flaxberg, if people
could afford to spend their money going on theaytre, understand me, they
don't need to keep boarders at all--especially when I am getting night
after night boiled _Brustdeckel_ only. I says to her, 'Mrs. Kaller,' I
says to her, 'why don't you give me once in a while a change?' I
says----"
"Did Lubliner have anything with him when he came out?" Flaxberg
interrupted.
"Well, sure; he'd got the package he forgets, and how a feller could
forget a package that size, Mr. Flaxberg--honestly, you wouldn't believe
at all! That's what it is to be a relation to the boss, Mr. Flaxberg.
If I would got such a memory, understand me, I would of been fired long
since already. Yes, Mr. Flaxberg, I says to Mrs. Kaller, 'For three
and a half dollars a week a feller should get night after night
_Brustdeckel_--it's a shame--honest!' I says; and--_stiegen_! There's
Mr. Scheikowitz!"
As he spoke he seized a feather duster and began to wield it vigorously,
so that by the time Philip Scheikowitz reached the showroom door a dense
cloud of dust testified to Markulies's industry.
"That'll do, Sam!" Philip cried. "What do you want to do here--choke us
all to death?"
Gradually the dust subsided and disclosed to Philip's astonished gaze
Harry Flaxberg seated on a sample table and apparently lost in the
perusal of the _Daily Cloak and Suit Record_.
"Good-morning, Mr. Scheikowitz," he said heartily, but Philip only
grunted in reply. Moreover, he walked hurriedly past Flaxberg and closed
the office door behind him with a resounding bang, for he, too, had
sought the advice of counsel the previous evening; and on that advice he
had left his bed before daylight, only to find himself forestalled by
the wily Flaxberg. Nor was his chagrin at all decreased by Polatkin, who
had promised to meet his partner at quarter-past seven. Instead he
arrived an hour later and immediately proceeded to upbraid Scheikowitz
for Flaxberg's punctuality.
"What do you mean that feller gets here before you?" he cried. "Didn't
you hear it the lawyer distinctively told you you should get here before
Flaxberg, and when Flaxberg arrives you should tell him he is fired on
account he is late? Honestly, Scheikowitz, I don't know what comes over
you lately the way you are acting. Here we are paying the lawyer ten
dollars he should give us an advice, understand me, and we might just so
well throw our money in the streets!"
"But Flaxberg wasn't late, Polatkin," Scheikowitz protested. "He was
early."
"Don't argue with me, Scheikowitz," Polatkin said. "Let's go outside and
talk to him."
Philip shrugged despairingly as they walked to the office door.
"Flaxberg," he began as he discerned the city salesman again using a
sample table for a footstool, "don't let us disturb you if you ain't
through reading the paper yet."
"Yes, Flaxberg," Polatkin added, "you could get down here so early like
you would be sleeping in the place all night yet, and what is it? Take
from the table the feet, Flaxberg, and be a man. We got something to say
to you."
"Go ahead, Mr. Polatkin," Flaxberg said as he leisurely brought his feet
to the floor. "I'm listening."
"In the first place, Flaxberg," Polatkin said, "did it ever occur to you
that, even if your uncle would got fired up to Appenweier & Murray's,
Redman designs for us a line of garments here which them people might be
interested in anyhow?"
"_Yow_, they would be interested in our line!" Flaxberg cried. "Lapin
wouldn't buy only Sammet Brothers' line if we got Worth and Paquin both
working for us as designers. You couldn't convince him otherwise, Mr.
Polatkin."
"That's all right," Polatkin went on; "but it wouldn't do no harm for
you to anyhow see the feller and show him a couple garments which we got
it here. Take for instance them 1080's, which we are selling Fine
Brothers, _oder_ that 2060--that overskirt effect with the gilt net
yoke and peacock-feather-design braid, Flaxberg. Them two styles made a
big hit, Flaxberg. They are all hanging on that end rack there,
Flaxberg, and you could look at 'em for yourself."
Polatkin walked across the showroom to the rack in question.
"Especially the 2060's," he said as he pulled aside the heavy denim
curtain which protected the contents of the rack, "which you could
really say is----"
Here he paused abruptly--for, with the exception of a dozen wooden
hangers, the rack was empty.
"What's this, Scheikowitz?" he cried with a sweep of his hand in the
direction of the rack. "Where is all them 1080's and 2060's?"
Hastily the two partners examined every rack in the showroom; and not
only did they fail to discover the missing samples, but they ascertained
that, in addition, seven other choice styles had disappeared.
"See maybe is Redman using 'em in the cutting room," Scheikowitz
suggested; and forthwith they made a canvass of the cutting room and
factory, in which they were joined by Markulies.
"What is the matter, Mr. Scheikowitz?" he asked.
"We are missing a dozen sample garments," Scheikowitz replied.
"Missing!" Markulies loudly exclaimed. "What d'ye mean--missing, Mr.
Scheikowitz? Last night, when I was covering up the racks, everything
was in place."
Suddenly a wave of recollection swept over him and he gave tongue like a
foxhound.
"Oo-oo-ee!" he wailed and sank into the nearest chair.
"Markulies," Polatkin cried out, "for Heaven's sake, what is it?"
"He must of _ganvered_ 'em!" Markulies wailed. "Right in front of my
eyes he done it."
"Who done it?" Scheikowitz cried.
"Lubliner," Markulies moaned.
"Lubliner!" Polatkin cried. "Do you mean Elkan Lubliner?"
"That's what I said," Markulies went on. "Comes half-past six last
night, and that _ganef_ makes me a _schlag_ in the stummick, Mr.
Polatkin; and the first thing you know he goes to work and steals from
me my keys, Mr. Polatkin, and cleans out the whole place yet."
"Lubliner was here last night after we are going home?" Polatkin asked.
"Sure, he was," Markulies replied--"at half-past six yet."
"Then that only goes to show what a liar you are," Polatkin declared,
"because myself I am letting Elkan go home at one o'clock on account the
feller is so sick, understand me, he could hardly walk out of the place
at all. Furthermore, he says he is going right straight to bed when he
leaves here; so, if you want to explain how it is the garments disappear
when you are in the place here alone, Markulies, go ahead with your
lies. Might Mr. Scheikowitz stole 'em maybe--or I did! What?"
Markulies began to rock and sway in an agony of woe.
"I should never stir from this here chair, Mr. Polatkin," Markulies
protested, "and my mother also, which I am sending her to
Kalvaria--regular like clockwork--ten dollars a month, she should
never walk so far from here _bis_ that door, if that _ganef_ didn't
come in here last night and make away with the garments!"
"_Koosh!_" Polatkin bellowed, and made a threatening gesture toward
Markulies just as Scheikowitz stepped forward.
"That'll do, Polatkin," he said. "If the feller lies we could easy prove
it--ain't it? In the first place, where is Elkan?"
"He must of been sick this morning on account he ain't here yet,"
Polatkin said.
"_Schon gut_," Scheikowitz rejoined; "if he ain't here he ain't here,
_verstehst du_, _aber_ he is boarding with Mrs. Feinermann, which her
husband is Kupferberg Brothers' foreman--ain't it?"
Polatkin nodded and Scheikowitz turned to Markulies.
"Markulies," he said, "do me the favour and stop that! You are making me
dizzy the way you are acting. Furthermore, Markulies, you should put on
right away your hat and run over to Kupferberg Brothers' and say to Mr.
B. Kupferberg you are coming from Polatkin & Scheikowitz, and ask him is
he agreeable he should let Marx Feinermann come over and see us--and if
he wants to know what for tell him we want to get from him a
recommendation for a feller which is working for us."
He turned to his partner as Markulies started for the stairway.
"And a helluva recommendation we would get from him, too, I bet yer!" he
added. "Wasserbauer tells me Elkan was in his place yesterday, and,
though he don't watch every bit of food a customer puts into his mouth,
understand me, he says that he eats dill pickles one right after the
other; and then, Polatkin, the young feller gets right up and walks
right out of the place without giving any order even. Wasserbauer says
he knows it was Elkan because one day I am sending him over to look for
you there. Wasserbauer asks him the simple question what he wants you
for, and right away Elkan acts fresh to him like anything."
"He done right to act fresh," Polatkin said as they walked back to the
showroom. "What is it Wasserbauer's business what you want me for?"
"But how comes a young feller like him to be eating at Wasserbauer's?"
Scheikowitz continued. "Where does he get the money from he should eat
there?"
"The fact is"--said Flaxberg, who up to this point had remained a silent
listener to the entire controversy--"the fact is, Mr. Scheikowitz,
yesterday I am taking pity on the feller on account he is looking sick;
and I took him into Wasserbauer's and invited him he should eat a little
something."
Here he paused and licked his lips maliciously.
"And though I don't want to say nothing against the feller, understand
me," he continued, "he begins right away to talk about horseracing."
"Horseracing?" Polatkin cried.
Flaxberg nodded and made a gesture implying more plainly than the words
themselves: "Can you beat it?"
"Horseracing!" Scheikowitz repeated. "Well, what do you think of that
for a lowlife bum?"
"And when I called him down for gambling, Mr. Polatkin, he walks right
out, so independent he is. Furthermore, though it's none of my business,
Mr. Polatkin," Flaxberg went on, "Markulies tells me this morning early
the same story like he tells you--before he knew the goods was missing
even."
"Sure, I believe you," Polatkin retorted. "He was getting the whole
thing fixed up beforehand. That's the kind of _Rosher_ he is."
As he spoke Markulies entered, and there followed on his heels the
short, stout figure of Marx Feinermann.
"What did I told you?" Markulies cried. "The feller ain't home sick at
all. He eats his supper last night, and this morning he is got two eggs
for his breakfast even."
"S'nough, Markulies!" Polatkin interrupted. "You got too much to say for
yourself. Sit down, Feinermann, and tell us what is the reason Elkan
ain't here this morning."
"You tell me and I would tell you," Feinermann replied. "All I know is
the feller leaves my house the usual time this morning; only before he
goes he acts fresh to my wife like anything, Mr. Polatkin. He kicks the
coffee ain't good, even when my wife is giving him two eggs to his
breakfast anyhow. What some people expects for three-fifty a week you
wouldn't believe at all!"
"What do you mean--three-fifty a week?" Polatkin demanded. "He pays your
wife five dollars a week _schon_ six months ago already. He told me so
himself."
"I ain't responsible for what that boy tells you," Feinermann said
stolidly. "All I know is he pays me three-fifty a week; and you would
think he is used to eating chicken every day from _zu Hause_ yet, the
way he is all the time kicking about his food."
Markulies snorted indignantly.
"He should got the _Machshovos_ Mrs. Kaller hands it to me," he
said--"_gekochte Brustdeckel_ day in, day out; and then I am accused
that I steal samples yet! I am sick and tired of it!"
"_Stiegen!_" Polatkin cried. "Listen here to me, Feinermann. Do you mean
to told me the boy ain't paying you five dollars a week board?"
As Feinermann opened his mouth to reply the showroom door opened and
Elkan himself entered.
"Loafer!" Scheikowitz roared. "Where was you?"
Elkan made no reply, but walked to the centre of the showroom.
"Mr. Polatkin," he said, "could I speak to you a few words something?"
Polatkin jumped to his feet.
"Before you speak to me a few words something," he said, "I want to ask
you what the devil you are telling me lies that you pay Mrs. Feinermann
five dollars a week board?"
"What are you bothering about that for now?" Scheikowitz interrupted.
"And, anyhow, you could see by the way the feller is red like blood that
he lies to you."
"Furthermore," Feinermann added, "my wife complains to me last night
that young loafer takes her uptown yesterday on a wild fool's errand,
understand me, and together they get pretty near kicked out of a
drygoods store."
"She told you that, did she?" Elkan cried.
"That's what I said!" Feinermann retorted.
"Then, if that's the case, Feinermann," Elkan replied, "all I can say
is, I am paying your wife five dollars a week board _schon_ six months
already, and if she is holding out on you a dollar and a half a week
that's her business--not mine."
"Don't make things worser as they are, Lubliner," Flaxberg advised. "You
are in bad, anyhow, and lying don't help none. What did you done with
the samples you took away from here?"
"What is it your business what I done with 'em?" Elkan retorted.
"Don't get fresh, Elkan!" Polatkin said. "What is all this about,
anyhow? First, you are leaving here yesterday on account you are sick;
next, you are going uptown with Mrs. Feinermann and get kicked out of a
drygoods store; then you come back here and steal our samples."
"Steal your samples!" Elkan cried.
"You admitted it yourself just now," Flaxberg interrupted. "You are a
thief as well as a liar!"
Had Flaxberg's interest in sport extended to pugilism, he would have
appreciated the manner in which Elkan's chest and arm muscles began to
swell under his coat, even if the ominous gleam in Elkan's dark eyes had
provided no other warning. As it was, however, Elkan put into practice
the knowledge gained by a nightly attendance at the gymnasium on East
Broadway. He stepped back two paces, and left followed right so rapidly
to the point of Flaxberg's jaw that the impact sounded like one blow.
Simultaneously Flaxberg fell back over the sample tables and landed with
a crash against the office partition just as the telephone rang loudly.
Perhaps it was as well for Flaxberg that he was unprepared for the
onslaught, since, had he been in a rigid posture, he would have
assuredly taken the count. Beyond a cut lip, however, and a lump on the
back of his head, he was practically unhurt; and he jumped to his feet
immediately. Nor was he impeded by a too eager audience, for Markulies
and Feinermann had abruptly fled to the farthermost corner of the
cutting room, while Marcus and Philip had ducked behind a sample rack;
so that he had a clear field for the rush he made at Elkan. He yelled
with rage as he dashed wildly across the floor, but the yell terminated
with an inarticulate grunt when Elkan stopped the rush with a drive
straight from the shoulder. It found a target on Flaxberg's nose, and he
crumpled up on the showroom floor.
For two minutes Elkan stood still and then he turned to the sample
racks.
"Mr. Polatkin," he said, "the telephone is ringing."
Polatkin came from behind the rack and automatically proceeded to the
office, while Scheikowitz peeped out of the denim curtains.
"You got to excuse me, Mr. Scheikowitz," Elkan murmured. "I couldn't
help myself at all."
"You've killed him!" Scheikowitz gasped.
"_Yow!_ I've killed him!" Elkan exclaimed. "It would take a whole lot
more as that to kill a bum like him."
He bent over Flaxberg and shook him by the shoulder.
"Hey!" he shouted in his ear. "You are ruining your clothes!"
Flaxberg raised his drooping head and, assisted by Elkan, regained his
feet and staggered to the water-cooler, where Elkan bathed his streaming
nostrils with the icy fluid.
At length Scheikowitz stirred himself to action just as Polatkin
relinquished the 'phone.
"Markulies," Scheikowitz shouted, "go out and get a policeman!"
"Don't do nothing of the kind, Markulies!" Polatkin declared. "I got
something to say here too."
He turned severely to Elkan.
"Leave that loafer alone and listen to me," he said. "What right do you
got to promise deliveries on them 2060's in a week?"
"I thought----" Elkan began.
"You ain't got no business to think," Polatkin interrupted. "The next
time you are selling a concern like Appenweier & Murray don't promise
nothing in the way of deliveries, because with people like them it's
always the same. If you tell 'em a week they ring you up and insist on
it they would got to got the goods in five days."
He put his hand on Elkan's shoulder; and the set expression of his face
melted until his short dark moustache disappeared between his nose and
his under lip in a widespread grin.
"Come inside the office," he said--"you too, Scheikowitz. Elkan's got a
long story he wants to tell us."
* * * * *
Half an hour later, Sam Markulies knocked timidly at the office door.
"Mr. Polatkin," he said, "Marx Feinermann says to me to ask you if he
should wait any longer on account they're very busy over to Kupferberg
Brothers'."
"Tell him he should come in here," Polatkin said; and Markulies withdrew
after gazing in open-mouthed wonder at the spectacle of Elkan Lubliner
seated at Polatkin's desk, with one of Polatkin's mildest cigars in his
mouth, while the two partners sat in adjacent chairs and smiled on Elkan
admiringly.
"You want to speak to me, Mr. Polatkin?" Feinermann asked, as he came in
a moment afterward.
"Sure," Polatkin replied as he handed the astonished Feinermann a cigar.
"Sit down, Feinermann, and listen to me. In the first place, Feinermann,
what for a neighborhood is Pitt Street to live in? Why don't you move
uptown, Feinermann?"
"A foreman is lucky if he could live in Pitt Street even," Feinermann
said. "You must think I got money, Mr. Polatkin."
"How much more a month would it cost you to live uptown?" Polatkin
continued. "At the most ten dollars--ain't it?"
Feinermann nodded sadly.
"To a man which he is only a foreman, Mr. Polatkin, ten dollars is ten
dollars," he commented.
"Sure, I know," Polatkin said; "but instead of five dollars a week
board, Elkan would pay you seven dollars a week, supposing you would
move up to Lenox Avenue. Ain't that right, Elkan?"
"Sure, that's right," Elkan said. "Only, if I am paying him seven
dollars a week board, he must got to give Mrs. Feinermann a dollar and a
half extra housekeeping money. Is that agreeable, Feinermann?"
Again Feinermann nodded.
"Then that's all we want from you, Feinermann," Polatkin added, "except
I want to tell you this much: I am asking Elkan he should come uptown
and live with me; and he says no--he would prefer to stick where he
is."
Feinermann shrugged complacently.
"I ain't got no objections," he said as he withdrew.
"And now, Elkan," Polatkin cried, "we got to fix it up with the other
feller."
Hardly had he spoken when there stood framed in the open doorway the
disheveled figure of Flaxberg.
"_Nu_, Flaxberg," Polatkin said. "What d'ye want from us now?"
"I am coming to tell you this, Mr. Polatkin," Flaxberg said thickly
through his cut and swollen lips: "I am coming to tell you that I'm sick
and so you must give me permission to go home."
"Nobody wants you to stay here, Flaxberg," Polatkin answered.
"Sure, I know," Flaxberg rejoined; "but if I would go home without your
consent you would claim I made a breach of my contract."
"Don't let that worry you in the least, Flaxberg," Polatkin retorted,
"because, so far as that goes, we fire you right here and now, on
account you didn't make no attempt to sell Appenweier & Murray, when a
boy like Elkan, which up to now he wasn't even a salesman at all, could
sell 'em one thousand dollars goods."
Flaxberg's puffed features contorted themselves in an expression of
astonishment.
"Lubliner sells Appenweier & Murray a bill of goods!" he exclaimed.
By way of answer Polatkin held out the order slip for Flaxberg's
inspection.
"That's all right," Flaxberg declared. "I would make it hot for you
anyhow! You put this young feller up to it that he pretty near kills
me."
"_Yow!_ We put him up to it!" Polatkin retorted. "You put him up to it
yourself, Flaxberg. You are lucky he didn't break your neck for you;
because, if you think you could sue anybody in the courts yet, we got
for witness Feinermann, Markulies and ourselves that you called him a
liar and a thief."
"_Nu_, Polatkin," Scheikowitz said, "give him say a hundred dollars and
call it square."
"You wouldn't give me five hundred dollars," Flaxberg shouted as he
started for the door, "because I would sue you in the courts for five
thousand dollars yet."
Flaxberg banged the door violently behind him, whereat Polatkin shrugged
his shoulders.
"Bluffs he is making it!" he declared; and forthwith he began to unfold
plans for Elkan's new campaign as city salesman. He had not proceeded
very far, however, when there came another knock at the door. It was Sam
Markulies.
"Mr. Flaxberg says to me I should ask you if he should wait for the
hundred dollars a check, or might you would mail it to him maybe!" he
said.
Scheikowitz looked inquiringly at his partner.
"Put on it, 'In full of all claims against Polatkin & Scheikowitz or
Elkan Lubliner to date,'" he said. "And when you get through with that,
Scheikowitz, write an 'ad' for an assistant cutter. We've got to get
busy on that Appenweier & Murray order right away."
CHAPTER THREE
A MATCH FOR ELKAN LUBLINER
MADE IN HEAVEN, WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF MAX KAPFER
"I wouldn't care if Elkan Lubliner was only eighteen even," declared
Morris Rashkind emphatically; "he ain't too young to marry B. Maslik's a
_Tochter_. There's a feller which he has got in improved property alone,
understand me, an equity of a hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand
dollars; and if you would count second mortgages and Bronix lots, Mr.
Polatkin, the feller is worth easy his quarter of a million dollars."