"Say, looky here, Abe," Morris cried one rainy March morning, "we got to get some more insurance."

"What do you mean, insurance?" Abe asked. "We got enough insurance, Mawruss. Them Rifkin fixtures ain't so valuable as all that, Mawruss, and even if we wouldn't already got it for twenty thousand dollars insurance, Mawruss, the building is anyhow fireproof. In a fireproof building you don't got to have so much insurance."

"Is that so?" Morris replied. "Well, Pinkel Brothers' building where they got it a loft is fireproof, and they got it also oitermatic sprinklers, Abe, and they somehow get burned out anyhow."

"You couldn't prove to me nothing by Pinkel Brothers, Mawruss," Abe rejoined. "Them people has already got a hundred operators and we ain't got one, Mawruss, and every operator smokes yet a cigarettel, and you know what them cigarettels is, Mawruss. They practically smokes themselves. So, if an operator throws one of them cigarettels in a bin from clippings, Mawruss, that cigarettel would burn up them clippings certain sure. For my part, I wouldn't have a cigarettel in the place; and so, Mawruss, we wouldn't have no fire, neither."

"I know, Abe," Morris protested; "but the loft upstairs is vacant and the loft downstairs is vacant, and everybody ain't so grouchy about cigarettels like you are, Abe. Might one of them lofts would be taken by a feller what is already a cigarettel fiend, Abe. And fires can start by other causes, too; and then where would we be with our twenty thousand insurance and all them piece goods what we got it?"

"But the building is fireproof, Mawruss."

"Sure I know," Morris replied; "fireproof buildings is like them gilt-edge, A Number One concerns what you sell goods to for ten years, maybe, and then all of a sudden when you don't expect it one of 'em busts up on you. And that's the way it is with fireproof buildings, Abe. They're fireproof so long as nobody has a fire in 'em."

Abe shrugged his shoulders and lit a fresh cigar.

"All right, Mawruss," Abe said; "I'm satisfied. If you want to get some more insurance, go ahead. I got worry enough I should bother my head about trifles. A little money for insurance we can afford to spend it, Mawruss, so long as we practically throw it in the streets otherwise."

"Otherwise?" Morris repeated. "What do you mean we throw it away otherwise, Abe?"

"I mean that new style thirty-twenty-eight what you showed it me this morning, Mawruss," Abe replied. "For a popular-price line, Mawruss, them new capes has got enough buttons and soutache on to 'em to sell for twenty dollars already instead of twelve-fifty."

"That's where you talk without knowing nothing what you say, Abe," Morris replied. "That garment what you seen it is the winder sample what I made it up for Louis Feinholz's uptown store. Louis give me a big order while you was in Boston last week, a special line of capes what I got up for him to retail at eighteen-fifty. But he also wanted me to make up for him a winder sample, just one garment to hang in the winder what would look like them special capes, Abe, y'understand, something like a diamond looks like a rhinestone. Then, when a lady sees that cape in the winder, she wants to buy one just like it, so she goes into Louis' store and they show her one just like it, only three inches shorter, a yard less goods into it, about half the soutache on to it and a dozen buttons short, Abe; because that winder garment what we make for Louis costs us ourselves twenty-five dollars, and Louis retails the garment what he sells that lady for eighteen-fifty. And that's the way it goes."

"That's a fine crook, that Louis Feinholz," Abe cried virtuously. "I wonder that you would sell people like that goods at all, Mawruss. That feller ain't no good, Mawruss. I seen him go back three times on four hundred hands up at Max Geigerman's house last week, a dollar a hundred double-double. He's a gambler, too."

"Well, Abe," Morris answered, "a feller what runs a chance on auction pinochle ain't near the gambler like a feller what is willing to run a chance on his business burning out and don't carry no insurance, Abe."

"Who is willing to run a chance, Mawruss?" Abe cried. "Just to show you I ain't willing to run a chance I will go right down to J. Blaustein and take out a ten-thousand-dollar policy, Mawruss."

Morris colored slightly.

"Why should we give it Blaustein all our business, Abe?" he said. "That feller must got it a thousand customers to Rudy Feinholz's one."

"Whose one?" Abe asked.

"Rudy Feinholz's," said Morris. "I thought I told it you that Louis Feinholz's nephew got an insurance business on Lenox Avenue, and I promised Louis I would give the young feller a show."

"You promised you would give him a show, Mawruss?" Abe repeated. "You promised Louis you would give that kid nephew of his what used to run Louis' books a show?"

"That's what I said, Abe," Morris answered.

"Well, all I can say, Mawruss," Abe declared as he put on his hat, "is that I wouldn't insure it a pinch of snuff by that feller, Mawruss. So if you take out any policies from him you can pay for 'em yourself, Mawruss, because I won't."

He favored Morris with a final glare and banged the door behind him.

Two hours later when Abe reËntered the show-room his face was flushed with triumph and he smoked one of J. Blaustein's imported cigars.

"You see, Mawruss," he said, flourishing a folded policy, "when you deal with fellers like Blaustein it goes quick. I got it here a ten-thousand-dollar insurance by a first-class, A Number One company."

Morris seized the policy and spread it out on the table. For ten minutes he examined it closely and then handed it back in silence.

"Well, Mawruss," Abe inquired anxiously, "ain't that policy all right?"

Morris shook his head.

"In the first place, Abe," he said, "why should we insure it a loft on Nineteenth Street, New York, in the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Insurance Company, of Manchester, England? Are we English or are we American, Abe?"

This was a poser, and Abe remained silent.

"And then again, Abe," Morris went on, "supposing we should—maybe, I am only saying—have a fire, Abe, then we must got to go all the way to Manchester, England, already to collect our money. Ain't it?"

Abe stared at his feet and made no reply, while Morris again examined the folded policy.

"Just listen here to these here names of the people what run the company, Abe," he said. "Chairman, the rutt honn Earl of Warrington."

Abe looked up suddenly.

"What kind of Chinese talk is that, Mawruss?" he said. "Rutt honn?"

"That's no Chinese talk, Abe," Morris replied. "That's printed right here on the policy. That rutt honn Earl of Warrington is president of the board of directors, Abe; and supposing we should maybe for example have a fire, Abe, what show would we stand it with this here rutt honn Earl of Warrington?"

Abe grabbed the policy, which bore on its reverse side the list of directors headed by the name of that distinguished statesman and Cabinet minister, the Rt. Hon. Earl of Warrington.

"J. Blaustein would fix it for us," Abe replied.

"J. Blaustein," Morris jeered. "I suppose, Abe, him and the rutt honn Earl of Warrington drinks coffee together every afternoon when J. Blaustein makes a trip to Manchester, England. Ain't it? No, Abe, you are up against a poor proposition, and I hope you ain't paid for that policy, Abe."

"J. Blaustein ain't in no hurry," Abe said. "We never pay him inside of sixty days, anyway."

"Well, we ain't going to pay him for that policy inside of sixty days or six hundred and sixty days, neither, Abe. We're going to fire that policy back on him, Abe, because I got it here a policy for ten thousand dollars which Rudy Feinholz just brought it me, Abe, and we are insured in a good American company, Abe, the Farmers and Ranchers' Insurance Company, of Arizona."

Abe shrugged his shoulders.

"Why should we insure it a stock of cloaks and suits by farmers and ranchers, Mawruss?" he asked.

"Ain't it better we should insure our goods by farmers and ranchers as by somebody what we don't know what he does for a living, like the rutt honn Earl of Warrington?" Morris retorted.

"But when it comes right down to it, Mawruss," Abe said, "how are we better off, supposing we got to go all the way to Arizona to collect our money?"

"That's what I told it young Feinholz," Morris replied, "and he says supposing we should, so to speak, have a fire, he guarantees it we would collect our money every cent of it right here in New York. And anyhow, Abe, any objections what you got to this here Farmers and Ranchers' policy wouldn't be no use anyhow."

"No?" Abe said. "Why not?"

"Because I just sent it Rudy Feinholz a check for the premium," Morris said, and walked out of the show-room before Abe could enunciate all the profanity that rose to his lips.

Louis Feinholz's order was shipped the following week, and with it went the cape for his show window. Abe himself superintended the packing, for business was dull in the firm's show-room. A particularly warm March had given way to a frigid, rainy April, and now that the promise of an early spring had failed of fulfillment cancelations were coming in thick and fast. Hence, Abe took rather a pessimistic view of things.

"I bet yer Feinholz will have yet some kicks about them goods, Mawruss," he said. "When I come down Feinholz's street this morning, Mawruss, it looked like Johnstown after the flood. I bet yer Feinholz ain't making enough in that store just now to pay electric-light bills."

"I don't know about that, Abe," said Morris. "Louis carries a mighty attractive line in his winders. Them small Fifth Avenue stores ain't got nothing on him when it comes to the line of sample garments he carries in his show winders, Abe."

"Sure I know," Abe rejoined; "but he ain't got nothing on one of them piker stores when it comes right down to the stock he carries on the inside, Mawruss. Yes, Mawruss, when I sell goods to a feller like Feinholz, Mawruss, I'm afraid for my life until I get my money."

"Well, you needn't be afraid for Feinholz, Abe," said Morris, "because, in the first place, the feller has got a fine rating; and then again, he couldn't fire them goods back on us because, for the price, there ain't a better-made line in the country."

"I hope you're right, Mawruss," Abe replied as he rang the bell for the freight elevator. "It would be a fine comeback if he should return them goods on us after we give his nephew the insurance we did."

Again he pressed the elevator bell.

"What's the matter with that elevator, Mawruss?" he said. "It takes a year to get a package on to the sidewalk."

"That's on account of somebody moves in downstairs, Abe," Morris answered. "Kaskel Schwartz, what used to be foreman for Pinkel Brothers, him and Moe Feigel goes as partners together in skirts."

"Is that so?" Abe said, jamming his thumb on the elevator bell. "I hope he don't got the cigarettel habit."

At length the elevator arrived, and Jake, the shipping clerk, carried out the brown paper parcels comprising Feinholz's shipment.

"If that's the last I seen of them garments," Abe said as he returned to the show-room, "I'm a lucky man."

"Always you're beefing about something happening what ain't going to happen, Abe," Morris retorted. "Just a few minutes since you hoped Kaskel Schwartz ain't going to be careless about cigarettels, and now you're imagining things about Feinholz sending back the goods."

"Never mind, Mawruss," Abe replied; "in two days' time I shall breathe easier yet."

For the rest of the day it rained in a steady, tropical downpour, and when Abe came downtown the next morning the weather had moderated only slightly.

"Yes, Mawruss," he said as he entered, "that's a fine weather for a cloak business, Mawruss; and I bet yer, Mawruss, if we was making cravenettes and umbrellas yet we would be having a long dry spell."

He heaved a great sigh and approached the bookkeeper's desk, where Morris had laid the morning mail.

"Did you hear from those suckers out in Kansas City what made the kick about them London Smokes, Mawruss?" he asked.

"Sure I did," Morris replied; "they says they decided to keep the goods."

"I guess it left off raining in Kansas City," Abe commented. "Them suckers only made that kick because they thought they couldn't sell nothing in wet weather. Any other kicks, Mawruss?"

"Yes," Morris replied shortly.

Abe looked up.

"Louis Feinholz!" he gasped.

Morris nodded and handed Abe a letter. It read as follows:

"What does that sucker mean, Mawruss?" Abe asked. "We ain't sent him no sample of them capes, Mawruss. We made 'em up according to his instructions, Mawruss. Ain't it?"

Morris nodded solemnly and again Abe read the letter.

This time he dashed the note to the floor and grew purple with rage.

"Why," he choked, "that sucker must mean it the winder sample."

Again Morris nodded solemnly.

"But a ten-year-old child could tell that them garments ain't like that winder sample, Mawruss," Abe went on.

"Sure I know," Morris replied sadly, "and a district court judge could tell it, too. Also, a jury by the city court could tell it, Abe; and also, I rung up Henry D. Feldman and asked him if he could take a case for us against Louis Feinholz, and Feldman says that Feinholz is such an old client that he couldn't do it. And that's the way it goes."

"But them capes was never intended to be the same like that sample, Mawruss," Abe cried.

"That's what I told Louis Feinholz when I rung him up after I spoke to Feldman, and Feinholz says he got the goods and he got the sample, and that's all he knows about it. Then I asked him if he didn't say it distinctly we should make up a first-class, expensive winder sample and ship it along with the order, and he says he don't remember it and that I should show him a writing."

"Ain't you got it a writing?" Abe asked.

"I ain't got no writing about the winder sample, Abe," Morris replied. "I only got it a writing about the order."

"But ain't you got no witnesses, Mawruss?" Abe asked.

"Witnesses I got it plenty, Abe," Morris answered. "And so has Feinholz got it witnesses. What's the use witnesses when all Feinholz has got to do is to get Henry D. Feldman to make theayter acting over that sample? For you know as well as I do, Abe, anyone would see that them garments is doch, anyway, a cheap imitation of that winder sample, Abe."

At this juncture Jake, the shipping clerk, entered.

"Mr.Potash," he said, "here comes Margulies' Harlem Express with them packages what we shipped it the Longchamps Store yesterday. Should I take 'em in?"

Abe jumped to his feet.

"Did Margulies bring 'em up?" he asked.

"He had 'em just now on the elevator," Jake replied.

"Wait, I go with you," Abe said. Together they walked rapidly toward the freight elevator, which opened into the cutting-room, but before they reached the door a shrill outcry rose from the floor below.

The East Side slogan of woe, "Oi gewalt," blended with women's shrieks, and at length came the cry: "Fie-urr! Fie-urr!"

Simultaneously MissCohen, the bookkeeper, lifted up her voice in strident despair while a great cloud of black smoke puffed from the elevator shaft, and the next moment Abe, Morris, Jake and the half-dozen cutters were pushing their way downstairs, elbowed by a frenzied mob of operators, male and female. When they arrived at the ground floor the engines were clanging around the corner, and Abe and Morris ran across the street to the opposite sidewalk. Suddenly an inarticulate cry escaped Abe and he sank onto a convenient dry-goods box.

"What's the trouble, Abe?" Morris asked. "Are you sick?"

"The policies!" Abe croaked, and closed his eyes. When he opened them a minute later his partner grinned at him reassuringly.

"I got 'em in my breast pocket, Abe," Morris said. "As soon as I seen the smoke I grabbed 'em, and I locked up the safe with the books inside."

Abe revived immediately.

"That reminds me, Mawruss," he said as he took a cigar from his waistcoat pocket: "What become of MissCohen?"

Twenty minutes later the fire was extinguished, and Abe and Morris returned to their loft. The first person to greet them was MissCohen, and, aside from a slight careening of her pompadour, she seemed none the worse for her dangerous experience.

"Mr.Potash," she said in businesslike tones, "the Longchamps Store just rung up and says about them garments what they returned that it was all a mistake, and that they was all right and you should reship 'em right away."

The show-room was flooded with sunlight and a mild spring breeze had almost dissipated the acrid smell of smoke.

"What did I tell you, Mawruss?" Abe said. "Feinholz is like them suckers in Kansas City. He was scared he couldn't sell them capes in wet weather, and now it's cleared up fine he wants 'em bad, Mawruss. I'll go and see what happened to 'em."

He hustled off toward the rear of the loft while Morris turned to MissCohen.

"Well, MissCohen," he said, "how did you make out by the fire just now?"

MissCohen blushed and patted her pompadour.

"Oh, Mr.Perlmutter," she said, "I was scared stiff, and Mr.Margulies, the expressman, pretty near carried me up to the roof and we stays there till the fireman says we should come down."

"And where's Margulies?" Morris asked.

"He's gone back to the cutting-room," MissCohen replied. "When he seen the smoke coming up he shuts quick the iron door on the freight elevator and everything's all right in the cutting-room, only a little water by the elevator shaft."

"And how about the packages from Feinholz?" Morris continued. But before MissCohen could reply Abe burst into the show-room with a broad grin on his face.

"That's a good joke on Feinholz, Mawruss," he said. "All the fire was in the elevator shaft and them garments what he returned it us is nothing but ashes."

"But, Abe," Morris began, when the telephone bell trilled impatiently. Abe took up the receiver.

"Hallo!" he said. "Yes, this is Potash. Oh, hallo, Feinholz!"

"Say, Potash," Feinholz said at the other end of the wire, "we got the store full of people here. Couldn't you send up them capes right away?"

Abe put his hand over the mouthpiece of the 'phone.

"It's Feinholz," he said to Morris. "He wants them capes right away. What shall I tell him?"

"Tell him nothing," Morris cried. "The first thing you know you will say something to that feller, and he sues us yet for damages because we didn't deliver the goods."

Abe hesitated for a minute.

"You talk to him," he said at length.

Morris seized the receiver from his partner.

"Hallo, Feinholz," he yelled. "We don't want nothing to say to you at all. We are through with you. That's all. Good-by."

He hung up the receiver and turned to Abe.

"When I deal with a crook like Feinholz," he said, "I'm afraid for my life."

Ten minutes later he went out to lunch and when he returned he brandished the early edition of an evening paper.

"What you think it says here, Abe?" he cried. "It says the fire downstairs was caused by an operator throwing a cigarettel in the clipping bin. Ain't that a quincidence, Abe?"

"I bet yer that's a quincidence," Abe replied. "A couple more of them quincidences, Mawruss, and we got to pay double for our insurance. I only wish we would be finished collecting on our policies for this here quincidence, Mawruss."

Morris shrugged his shoulders and was about to make a reassuring answer when the door opened and two men entered.

One of them was Samuel Feder, vice-president of the Kosciusko Bank, and the other was Louis Feinholz, proprietor of the Longchamps Store.

"Well, Abe," Feder cried, "what's this I hear about the fire?"

"Come into the office, Mr.Feder," Abe cried, while Morris greeted Feinholz. "Morris will be through soon."

"Say, Mawruss," Feinholz said. "What's the matter with you boys? Here I got to come downtown about them capes, and my whole store's full of people. Why didn't you ship them capes back to me like I told you?"

"Look a-here, Feinholz," Morris exclaimed in tones sufficiently loud for Feder to overhear, "what d'ye take us for, anyhow? Greenhorns? Do you think you can write us a dirty letter like that and then come down and get them capes just for the asking?"

"Ain't you getting touchy all of a sudden, Mawruss?" Feinholz cried excitedly. "You had no business to deliver them goods in such rotten weather. You know as well as I do that I couldn't use them goods till fine weather sets in, and now I want 'em, and I want 'em bad."

"Is that so?" Morris replied. "Why, I thought them garments was no good, Feinholz. I thought them capes wasn't up to sample."

"What are you talking about?" Feinholz shouted. "Them goods was all right and the sample's all right, too. All I want now is you should ship 'em right away. I can sell the lot this afternoon if you only get 'em up to my store in time."

Morris waved his hand deprecatingly. "S'enough, Feinholz," he said; "you got as much show of getting them goods as though you never ordered 'em."

"Why not?" Feinholz cried.

"Because them goods got burned up on our freight elevator this morning," Morris replied.

"What!" Feinholz gasped.

"That's what I said," Morris concluded; "and if you excuse me I got some business to attend to."

Feinholz turned and almost staggered from the store, while Morris joined his partner and Sam Feder in the firm's office. Feder had overheard the entire conversation and greeted Morris with a smile.

"Well, Mawruss," he said, "it serves that sucker right. A feller what confesses right up and down that the goods was all right and then he fires them back at you just because the weather was rotten ought to be sued yet."

"What do we care?" Abe replied. "We got 'em insured, and so long as we get our money out of 'em we would rather not be bothered with him."

"Did you have any other damages, boys?" Feder asked, with a solicitude engendered of a ten-thousand-dollar accommodation to Potash & Perlmutter's debit on the books of the Kosciusko Bank.

"Otherwise, everything is O. K.," Morris replied cheerfully. Together they conducted Feder on a tour of their premises and, after he was quite reassured, they presented him with a good cigar and ushered him into the elevator.

"I guess you put your foot in it with Feinholz, Mawruss," Abe said after Feder had departed. "How can we go to that kid nephew of his now and ask him to adjust the loss, Mawruss?"

Morris arched his eyebrows and stared at his partner.

"What's the matter with you, anyway, Abe?" he asked. "Ain't J. Blaustein good enough for you? Ain't J. Blaustein always done it our insurance business up to now all O. K., Abe? And now that we got it our very first fire, why should you want to throw Blaustein down?"

Abe put on his hat thoroughly abashed.

"I thought we got to get Rudy Feinholz to adjust it the loss," he said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't of suggested it. But, anyway, I will go right down to Blaustein and see what he says."

Morris jumped to his feet.

"Wait," he said; "I'll go with you."

Half an hour afterward Abe and Morris were seated in J. Blaustein's office on Pine Street, recounting the details of the fire.

"How many garments was there?" Blaustein asked.

"Forty-eight, and we figured it up the loss at twelve-fifty apiece," Morris explained. "That's what we billed 'em to Feinholz for."

Blaustein frowned.

"But look a-here, Perlmutter," he said: "them insurance companies won't pay you what you were going to sell them garments for. They'll only pay you what they cost to make up. They'll figure it: so much cloth—say, fifty dollars; so much trimmings—say, forty dollars; so much labor—say, thirty dollars; and that's the way it goes."

"But how could we prove that to the company, Mr.Blaustein?" Abe protested. "There ain't enough left of them garments to show even what color they was."

Blaustein rose to his feet.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "we'll discuss that later. The first thing we must do is to go up and see young Feinholz. That Farmers and Ranchers' Insurance Company is a pretty close corporation. Louis Feinholz's brother out in Arizona is the president, and they got such a board of directors that if they printed the names on the back of the policy it would look like the roster of an East Side free-burial society. Also, this here Rudy Feinholz what acted as your broker is also general agent, adjuster and office manager for the Metropolitan District; and, taking it by and large, youse gentlemen is lucky you come to me instead of him to adjust this loss."

Rudy Feinholz's insurance business occupied what had once been the front parlor of a high-stoop brown-stone residence. Similarly the basement dining-room had been converted into a delicatessen store, and the smoked meats, pickles, cheese and spices with which it was stocked provided rather a strange atmosphere for the Metropolitan Agency of the Farmers and Ranchers' Insurance Company. Moreover, the Italian barber who rented the quondam back parlor was given to practicing on the mandolin; and when Abe, Morris and J. Blaustein entered the Metropolitan Agency a very imperfect rendition of Santa Lucia came through the partition and made conversation difficult for the Metropolitan agent.

"What d'ye say if we all go round to the Longchamps," he said, "and talk things over."

"I'm agreeable," Morris said, looking at his partner.

"Sure thing," Blaustein replied. "That delicatessen store smell is so thick around here that I'm getting ptomaine poisoning."

"But," Abe protested, "maybe Louis Feinholz don't want us round there. We ain't on the best of terms with Louis."

"That's all right," Rudy Feinholz said. "I arranged with him to bring you round there. Uncle Louis is a heavy stockholder in the Farmers and Ranchers', and——"

"S'enough!" Morris cried. "I hear enough about the family history of this here Farmers and Ranchers. It wouldn't make no difference to me if your mother was the vice-president and your sister the secretary. All I want is we should settle this thing up."

"Well, come along, then," Rudy cried, and the two brokers and their clients repaired to Feinholz's store. Abe and Morris entered not without trepidation, but Louis received them with unaffected amiability.

"Well, Mawruss," he said, "that's too bad you got a fire in your place."

"We can stand it," Morris replied. "We was insured."

Feinholz rejoined: "Yes, you was insured by your loft, but you wasn't insured by your freight elevator."

"But by the rules of the Fire Insurance Exchange," Blaustein interrupted, "when a policy reads——"

"What do we care about the Fire Insurance Exchange?" Feinholz broke in. "The Farmers and Ranchers' ain't members of the Fire Insurance Exchange. We got a license to do business from the Superintendent of Insurance, and we don't give a cent for the Fire Insurance Exchange. We insured it the loft, and the goods was burnt in the freight elevator."

Abe jumped to his feet.

"Do you mean," he cried, "that you ain't going to pay us nothing for our fire?"

"That's what I mean," Feinholz declared.

Morris turned to Abe.

"Come, Abe," he said, "we'll take Feder's advice."

"Feder's advice?" Feinholz repeated. "You mean that feller what I seen it in your store this morning?"

"That's what I mean," Morris replied. "Feder says to us we should take it his lawyers, McMaster, Peddle & Crane, and he would see to it that they wouldn't charge us much."

Feinholz smiled.

"But the Farmers and Ranchers' Insurance Company got also a good lawyer," he said triumphantly.

"Maybe they have," Morris admitted, "but we ain't got nothing to do with the Farmers and Ranchers' Insurance Company now. We take it Feder's lawyers and sue you, Feinholz. Feder hears it all what you got to say, and he is willing to go on the stand and swear that you says that the goods was all right and the sample was all right. I guess when a banker and a gentleman like Feder swears something you could get all the Henry D. Feldmans in the world and it wouldn't make no difference."

Feinholz passed his hand over his forehead and breathed hard.

"Maybe we could settle the matter, Rudy," he said to his nephew, "if the other companies what they are insured by would contribute their share."

"The other companies," Morris announced, "is got nothing to do with it. You fired them goods back at us, and that's the reason why they got damaged. So, we wouldn't ask for a cent from the other companies."

"Then it is positively all off," cried Feinholz as one of his saleswomen entered. She held a familiar garment in her hand, and in the dim light of Feinholz's private office the buttons and soutache with which the cape was adorned sparkled like burnished gold.

"Mr.Feinholz," she said, "a lady saw this on one of the racks and she wants to know how much it costs."

Morris eyed the cape for one hesitating moment, and then he sprang to his feet and snatched it from the astonished saleswoman.

"You tell the customer," he said, "that this here cape ain't for sale."

He rolled it into a tight bundle and thrust it under his coat.

"Now, Feinholz," he declared calmly, "I got you just where I want you. Feder is willing to go on the stand and swear that you said them goods was up to sample, and this here is the sample. Any feller what knows anything about the cloak and suit trade could tell in a minute that these here samples costed twenty-five dollars to make up. Forty-eight times twenty-five is twelve hundred dollars, and so sure as you are sitting there, Feinholz, Abe and me will commence suit against you for twelve hundred dollars the first thing to-morrow morning, unless we get it a certified check from the Farmers and Ranchers' Insurance Company for six hundred dollars, which is the price what you agreed to pay us for the garments."

A moment later Blaustein and Abe followed him to the sidewalk.

"Well, Blaustein," Morris asked as they walked to the elevated railroad, on their way home, "what do you think of it all? Huh?"

"I think it's a good bluff you are making," Blaustein replied, "but it may work. So, if you come right down to my office I'll fix up your proof of loss and send it up to him this afternoon."

The next morning Abe and Morris reached their loft a good hour ahead of the letter-carrier, and when he entered they both made a grab for the mail which he handed them. Morris won out, and as he shuffled the letters with the deftness of long pinochle experience he emitted a cry.

"What is it?" Abe asked.

For answer Morris tore open a long yellow envelope and flicked it up and down between his thumb and finger until a small piece of paper fluttered to the carpet. Abe swooped down on it immediately and ran to the office, hugging it to his breast. It was a certified check for six hundred dollars.

"Well, Abe," Morris said as he filled out a deposit slip of the Kosciusko Bank, "there's one feller comes out of this deal pretty lucky, all considering."

"Who's that, Mawruss?" Abe asked.

"The rutt honn Earl of Warrington," Morris replied.