Part 46 (1/2)

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 pa.s.sageway between the mahogany part.i.tions. In front of the little cas.h.i.+er'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 a.s.sumed 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-cla.s.s, 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 b.u.m 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.”