Part 21 (2/2)
”I didn't know you went away at all, Mr. Gembitz,” the elevator boy replied.
”_Dummer Esel!_” Sam exclaimed. ”Don't you know I was sick and I am going away from here _schon_ three months ago pretty near?”
The elevator boy stopped the car at Gembitz Brothers' floor and spat deliberately.
”In the building is twenty tenants, Mr. Gembitz,” he said, ”and the way them fellers is sitting up all hours of the night, s.h.i.+kkering and gambling, if I would keep track which of 'em is sick and which ain't sick, Mr. Gembitz, I wouldn't got no time to run the elevator at all.”
If the elevator boy's indifference made Sam waver in the belief that he was sorely missed downtown the appearance of his late showroom convinced him of his mistake. The yellow-pine fixtures had disappeared, and in place of his old walnut table there had been installed three rolltop desks of the latest Wall Street design.
At the largest of these sat Max, who wheeled about suddenly as his father entered.
”What are you doing down here?” he demanded savagely.
”Ain't I got no right in my own business at all?” Sam asked mildly.
”Sidney!” Max cried, and in response his youngest brother appeared.
”Put on your hat and take the old man home,” he said.
”One minute, Sidney,” Sam said. ”In the first place, Max, before we talk about going home, I want to ask you a question: How much does Falkstatter, Fein & Company owe us?”
”Us?” Max repeated.
”Well--you?” Sam replied.
”What's that your business?” Max retorted.
”What is that my business?” Sam gasped. ”A question! Did you ever hear the like, Sidney? He asks me what it is my business supposing Falkstatter, Fein & Company owes us a whole lot of money! Ain't that a fine way to talk, Sidney?”
Sidney's pasty face coloured and he bit his lips nervously.
”Max is right, popper,” he said. ”You ain't got no call to come down here and interfere in our affairs. I'll put on my hat and go right home with you.”
It was now Sam's turn to blush, and he did so to the point of growing purple with rage.
”Don't trouble yourself,” he cried; ”because I ain't going home!”
”What d'ye mean, y'ain't going home?” Max said threateningly.
”I mean what I say!” Sam declared. ”I mean I ain't going home never again. You are throwing me out of my business, Max, and you would soon try to throw me out of my home, too, if I couldn't protect myself. But I ain't so old and I ain't so sick but what I could take care of myself, Max.”
”Why, Doctor Eichendorfer says----” Sidney began.
”Doctor Eichendorfer!” Sam roared. ”Who is Doctor Eichendorfer? He is a doctor, not a lawyer, Max, and maybe he knows about kidneys, Max; but he don't know nothing about business, Max! And, so help me, Max, I would give you till Wednesday afternoon three o'clock; if you don't send me a certified check for five thousand dollars over to Henry Schrimm's place, I would go right down and see Henry D. Feldman, and I would bust your business--my business!--open from front to rear, so that there wouldn't be a penny left for n.o.body--except Henry D.
Feldman.”
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