Potash & Perlmutter Part 45

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 a.s.sure 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 a.s.sure 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 b.u.mp 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 b.u.t.t 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 a.s.sure 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 pa.s.sed 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 sh.e.l.lac. n.o.body 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!"