Part 7 (2/2)

After the conclusion of his interview with Isaac Meiselson, s.h.i.+mko repaired immediately to Zamp's tailoring establishment, and together they proceeded to the office of Mr. Boris Klinkowitz, manager of the Olympic Gardens, on Rivington Street. s.h.i.+mko explained the object of their business, and in less than half an hour the resourceful Klinkowitz had engaged a force of cutters, salesmen, and customers sufficient to throng Harry Zamp's store for the entire day.

”You would see how smooth the whole thing goes,” Klinkowitz declared, after he had concluded his arrangements. ”The cutters is genu-ine cutters, members from a union already, and the salesmen works for years by a couple concerns on Park Row.”

”And the customers?” Zamp asked.

”That depends on yourself,” Klinkowitz replied. ”If you got a couple real bargains in sample garments, I wouldn't be surprised if the customers could be genu-ine customers also. Two of 'em works here as waiters, evenings, and the other three ain't no b.u.ms, neither. I called a dress-rehearsal at your store to-morrow morning ten o'clock.”

On the following day, when Mr. s.h.i.+mko visited his tenant's store, he rubbed his eyes.

”Ain't it wonderful?” he exclaimed. ”Natural like life!”

”S-s-s.h.!.+” Zamp exclaimed.

”What's the matter, Zamp?” s.h.i.+mko whispered.

Zamp winked.

”Only the cutters and the salesmen showed up,” he replied.

”Well, who are them other fellows there?” s.h.i.+mko asked.

”How should I know?” Zamp said hoa.r.s.ely. ”A couple of suckers comes in from the street, and we sold 'em the same like anybody else.”

Here the door opened to admit a third stranger. As the two ”property”

salesmen were busy, Zamp turned to greet him.

”Could you make me up maybe a dress suit _mit_ a silk lining?” the newcomer asked.

”What are you so late for?” Zamp retorted. ”Klinkowitz was here _schon_ an hour ago already.”

The stranger looked at Zamp in a puzzled fas.h.i.+on.

”What are you talking about--Klinkowitz?” he said. ”I don't know the feller at all.”

Zamp gazed hard at his visitor, and then his face broke into a broad, welcoming smile.

”Excuse me,” he said. ”I am making a mistake. Do you want a French drape, _oder_ an unfinished worsted?”

For the next thirty minutes a succession of customers filled the store, and when at intervals during that period Klinkowitz's supernumeraries arrived, Zamp turned them all away.

”What are you doing, Zamp?” s.h.i.+mko exclaimed. ”At two o'clock the store would be empty!”

”Would it?” Zamp retorted, as he eyed a well-dressed youth who paused in front of the show-window. ”Well, maybe it would and maybe it wouldn't; and, anyhow, Mr. s.h.i.+mko, if there wouldn't be no customers here, we would anyhow got plenty of cutting to do. Besides, s.h.i.+mko, customers is like sheep. If you get a run of 'em, one follows the other.”

For the remainder of the forenoon the two salesmen had all the customers they could manage; and as s.h.i.+mko watched them work, his face grew increasingly gloomy.

”Say, lookyhere, Zamp,” he said; ”you are doing here such a big business, where do I come in?”

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