The Competitive Nephew

by Montague Glass

  CHAPTER NINE

  "RUDOLPH WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN"

  All that J. Montgomery Fieldstone had done to make his name atheatrical boarding-household word from the Pacific Coast toForty-sixth Street and Seventh Avenue was to exercise as a producingmanager nearly one tenth of the judgment he had displayed as Jacob M.Fieldstone, of Fieldstone & Gips, waist manufacturers; and he voicedhis business creed in the following words:

  "Now listen to me, kid," he said, "my idea has always been that, nomatter how much value you give for the money, goods don't sellthemselves. Ain't I right?"

  Miss Goldie Raymond nodded, though she was wholly absorbed in afull-length enlarged photograph which hung framed and glazed on thewall behind Fieldstone's desk. She looked at it as a millionairecollector might look at a Van Dyck he had recently acquired from animpoverished duke, against a meeting of protest held in TrafalgarSquare. Her head was on one side. Her lips were parted. It was aportrait of Miss Goldie Raymond as Mitzi in the Viennese knockout oftwo continents--"Rudolph, Where Have You Been."

  "Now this new show will stay on Broadway a year and a half, kid," Mr.Fieldstone proceeded, "in case I get the right people to push it.Therefore I'm offering you the part before I speak to any one else."

  "Any one else!" Miss Raymond exclaimed. "Well, you've got a nerve,after all I've done for you in 'Rudolph'!"

  "Sure, I know," Fieldstone said; "but you've got to hand something toSidney Rossmore."

  "Him?" Miss Raymond cried. "Say, Mont, if I had to play opposite himanother season I'd go back into vaudeville."

  Fieldstone began to perspire freely. As a matter of fact he had signedRossmore for the new show that very morning after an all-nightdiscussion in Sam's, the only restaurant enjoying the confidence of thelast municipal administration.

  "Then how about the guy that wrote the music, Oskar Schottlaender?" heprotested weakly. "That poor come-on don't draw down only ten thousanddollars a week royalties from England, France, and America alone!"

  "Of course if you ain't going to give me any credit for what I'vedone----" Miss Raymond began.

  "Ain't I telling you you're the first one I spoke to about this?"Fieldstone interrupted.

  "Oh, is that so?" Miss Raymond said. "I wonder you didn't offer thatVivian Haig the part, which before I called myself after a highball I'duse my real name, even if it was Katzberger."

  "I told you before, kid, Vivian Haig goes with the Rudolph Number TwoCompany next month to play the same part as she does now; and you knowas well as I do it ain't no better than walking on and off in thesecond act--that's all."

  "Then you'd oughter learn her to walk, Mont," Miss Raymond said as sherose from her chair. "She fell all over herself last night."

  "I know it," Fieldstone said, without shifting from his desk. "Sheain't got nothing to do and she can't do that!"

  Miss Raymond attempted what a professional producer had told her was abitter laugh. It turned out to be a snort.

  "Well, I can't stay here all day talking about people like Haig," sheannounced. "I got a date with my dressmaker in a quarter of an hour."

  "All right, Goldie," Fieldstone said, still seated. "Take care ofyourself, kid, and I'll see you after the show to-night."

  He watched her as she disappeared through the doorway and sighedheavily--but not for love, because the domestic habits of a lifetime inthe waist business are not to be so easily overcome. Indeed, theatricalbeauty, with all its allurements, reposed in Fieldstone's office asfree from temptation to the occupant as thousand dollar bills in apaying-teller's cage.

  What if he did call Miss Goldie Raymond "kid"? He meant nothing by it.In common with all other theatrical managers he meant nothing byanything he ever said to actors or playwrights, unless it appearedafterward that he ought to have meant it and would stand to lose moneyby not meaning it.

  The telephone bell rang and he lifted the receiver from its hook.

  "Who d'ye say?" he said after a pause. "Well, see if Raymond is gonedown the elevator, and if it's all right tell her I'll see her."

  A moment later a side door opened--not the door by which Miss Raymondhad departed--and a young woman of determined though graceful andalluring deportment entered.

  "Well," she said, "how about it, Mont? Do I get it or don't I?"

  "Sit down, kid," Fieldstone said, himself seated; for he had not risenat his visitor's entrance. "How goes it, sweetheart?"

  It is to be understood that "sweetheart" in this behalf had no moresignificance than "kid." It was a synonym for "kid" and nothing else.

  "Rossmore says you're going to play Raymond in the new piece," she wenton, ignoring his question; "and you know you told me----"

  "Now listen here, kid," he said, "you ain't got no kick coming. In'Rudolph' you've got a part that's really the meaty part of the wholepiece. I watched your performance from behind last night, kid, and Ihope I may die if I didn't say to Raymond that it was immense and youwere running her out of the business. I thought she'd throw a fit!"

  "Then I do get the part in the new piece?" Miss Vivian Haiginsisted--for it was none other than herself.

  "Well, it's like this," Fieldstone explained: "If you play anotherseason with 'Rudolph,' and----"

  Miss Haig waited to hear no more, however. She bowed her head in herhands and burst into sobs; and she might well have saved herself thetrouble, for to J. Montgomery Fieldstone the tears of an actress on oroff were only "bus. of weeping." He lit a fresh cigar, and it mighthave been supposed that he blew the smoke in Miss Haig's direction as asubstitute for smelling salts or aromatic spirits of ammonia. As amatter of fact he just happened to be facing that way.

  "Now don't do that, kid," he said, "because you know as well as I dothat if there was anything I could do for the daughter of MorrisKatzberger I'd do it. Him and me worked as cutters together in the olddays when I didn't know no more about the show business than Morrisdoes to-day; but I jumped you right from the chorus into the part ofSonia in 'Rudolph,' and you got to rest easy for a while, kid."

  "I g-got notices above the star," Miss Haig sobbed; "and you toldpopper the night after we opened in Atlantic City that you wereplanning to give me a b-better part next season."

  "Ain't your father got diabetes?" Fieldstone demanded. "What else wouldI tell him?"

  "But you said to Sidney Rossmore that if I could dance as well as Isang I'd be worth two hundred and fifty a week to you."

  "I said a hundred and fifty," Fieldstone corrected; "and, anyhow, kid,you ain't had no experience dancing."

  "Ain't I?" Miss Haig said. She flung down her pocketbook andhandkerchief, and jumped from her seat. "Well, just you watch this!"

  For more than ten minutes she postured, leaped, and pranced by turns,while Fieldstone puffed great clouds of smoke to obscure hisadmiration.

  She postured, leaped, and pranced by turns]

  "How's that?" she panted at last, sinking into a chair.

  "Where did you get it?" Fieldstone asked.

  "I got it for money--that's where I got it," Miss Haig replied; "and Igot to get money for it--if not by you, by some other concern."

  Fieldstone shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference.

  "You know your own book, kid," he said; "but, you can take it from me,you'll be making the mistake of your life if you quit me."

  "Maybe I will and maybe I won't!" Miss Haig said as she gathered up herhandkerchief and pocketbook. "I ain't going to do nothing in a hurry;but if you want to give me my two weeks' notice now go ahead and doit!"

  "Think it over, kid," Fieldstone said calmly as Miss Haig started forthe door. "Anything can happen in this business. Raymond might dropdead or something."

  Miss Haig slammed the door behind her, but in the moment of doing itFieldstone caught the unspoken wish in her flashing eyes.

  "So do I!" he said half aloud.

  * * * * *

  Lyman J. Bienenflug, of the firm of Bienenflug & Krimp, Rooms 6000 to6020 Algonquin
Theatre Building, was a theatrical lawyer in thebroadest sense of the term; and it was entirely unnecessary for Mrs.Ray Fieldstone to preface every new sentence with "Listen, Mr.Bienenflug!" because Mr. Bienenflug was listening as a theatricallawyer ought to listen, with legs crossed and biting on the end of apenholder, while his heavy brows were knotted in a frown of deepconsideration, borrowed from Sir J. Forbes Robertson in "Hamlet," ActIII, Scene 1.

  "Listen, Mr. Bienenflug! I considered why should I stand for it anylonger?" Mrs. Fieldstone went on. "He usen't anyhow to come home tilltwo--three o'clock. Now he don't come home at all sometimes. Am I rightor wrong?"

  "Quite right," Mr. Bienenflug said. "You have ample grounds for alimited divorce."

  While retaining or, rather, as a dramatic producer would say,registering the posture of listening, Mr. Bienenflug mentally reviewedall J. Montgomery Fieldstone's successes of the past year, whichincluded the "Head of the Family," a drama, and Miss Goldie Raymond inthe Viennese knockout of two continents, "Rudolph, Where Have YouBeen." He therefore estimated the alimony at two hundred dollars a weekand a two-thousand dollar counsel fee; and he was proceeding logicallythough subconsciously to a contrasting of the respective motor-carrefinement displayed by a ninety-horse-power J.C.B. and the new 1914model Samsoun--both six cylinders--when Mrs. Fieldstone spoke again.

  "Listen, Mr. Bienenflug!" she protested. "I don't want no divorce. Ishould get a divorce at my time of life, with four children already!What for?"

  "Not an absolute divorce," Mr. Bienenflug explained; "just aseparation."

  "A separation!" Mrs. Fieldstone exclaimed in a manner so agitated thatshe forgot to say, "Listen, Mr. Bienenflug!" "If I would want aseparation I don't need to come to a lawyer, Mr. Bienenflug. Anymarried woman if she is crazy in the head could go home to her folks tolive, Mr. Bienenflug, without paying money to a lawyer he should adviseher to do so, Mr. Bienenflug; which I got six married sisters, Mr.Bienenflug--and before I would go and live with any of them, Mr.Bienenflug, my husband could make me every day fresh a blue eye--andstill I wouldn't leave him. No, Mr. Bienenflug, I ain't asking you youshould get me a separation. What I want is you should get him to comehome and stay home."

  "But a lawyer can't do that, Mrs. Fieldstone."

  "I thought a lawyer could do anything," Mrs. Fieldstone said, "if hewas paid for it, Mr. Bienenflug, which I got laying in savings bankover six hundred dollars; and----"

  Mr. Bienenflug desired to hear no more. He uncrossed his legs anddropped the penholder abruptly. At the same time he struck a handbellon his desk to summon an office boy, who up to the opening night of the"Head of the Family," six months before, had responded to an ordinaryelectric pushbutton. But anyone who has ever seen the "Head of theFamily"--and, in fact, any one who knows anything about dramaticvalues--will appreciate how much more effective from a theatricalstandpoint the handbell is than the pushbutton. There is somethingabout the imperative Bing! of the handbell that holds an audience. Itis, in short, drama--though drama has its disadvantages in real life;for Mr. Bienenflug, after striking the handbell six times withoutresponse, was obliged to go to the door and shout "Ralph!" in a whollyuntheatrical voice.

  "What's the matter with you?" he said when the office boy appeared."Can't you hear when you're rung for?"

  Ralph murmured that he thought it was a--now--Polyclinic ambulance outin the street.

  "Get me a stenographer," Mr. Bienenflug said.

  In the use of the indefinite article before stenographer he was onceagain the theatrical lawyer, because Bienenflug & Krimp kept but onestenographer, and at that particular moment she was in earnestconversation with a young lady whose face bore traces of recent tears.

  It was this face and not a Polyclinic ambulance that had delayed RalphZinsheimer's response to his employer's bell; and after he had retiredfrom Mr. Bienenflug's room he straightway forgot his message inlistening to a very moving narrative indeed.

  "And after I left his office who should I run into but SidneyRossmore," said the young lady with the tear-stained face, whom youwill now discover to be Miss Vivian Haig; "and he says that he just sawRaymond and she's going to sign up with Fieldstone for the new pieceto-night yet."

  She began to weep anew and Ralph could have wept with her, or doneanything else to comfort her, such as taking her in his arms andallowing her head to rest on his shoulder--and but for the presence ofthe stenographer he would have tried it, too.

  "Well," Miss Schwartz, the stenographer, said, "he'll get hiscome-uppings all right! His wife is in with Mr. Bienenflug now, and Iguess she's going in for a little alimony."

  Miss Haig dried her eyes and sat up straight.

  "What for?" she said.

  "You should ask what for!" Miss Schwartz commented. "I guess you knowwhat theatrical managers are."

  "Not Fieldstone ain't!" Miss Haig declared with conviction. "I'll sayanything else about him, from petty larceny up; but otherwise he's aperfect gentleman."

  At this juncture Mr. Bienenflug's door burst open.

  "Ralph!" he roared.

  "Oh, Mr. Bienenflug," Miss Haig said, "I want to see you for a minute."

  She smiled on him with the same smile she had employed nightly in thesecond act of "Rudolph" and Mr. Bienenflug immediately regained hiscomposure.

  "Come into Mr. Krimp's room," he said.

  And he closed the door of Room 6000, which was his own room, andushered Miss Haig through Room 6010, which was the outer office,occupied by the stenographer and the office boy, into Mr. Krimp's room,or Room 6020; for it was by the simple expedient of numbering rooms intens and units that the owner of the Algonquin Theatre Building hadprovided his tenants with such commodious suites of offices--on theirletterheads at least.

  "By jinks! I clean forgot all about it, Miss Schwartz," Ralph saidafter Mr. Bienenflug had become closeted with his more recent client."He told me to tell you to come in and take some dictation."

  "I'll go in all right," Miss Schwartz said; and she entered Mr.Bienenflug's room determined to pluck out the heart of Mrs.Fieldstone's mystery.

  It needed no effort on the stenographer's part, however; for as soon asshe said "How do you do, Mrs. Fieldstone?" Mrs. Fieldstone forthwithunbosomed herself.

  "Listen, Miss Schwartz," she said. "I've been here about buying houses,and I've been here about putting out tenants--and all them things; butI never thought I would come here about Jake."

  Out of consideration for Ralph, Miss Schwartz had left the door ajar,and Ralph discreetly seated himself on one side where he might hearunobserved.

  "Why, what's the trouble now, Mrs. Fieldstone?" Miss Schwartz asked.

  "Former times he usen't to come home till two--three o'clock," Mrs.Fieldstone repeated; "and last week twice already he didn't come homeat all; but he telephoned--I will say that for him." Here she burstinto tears, which in a woman of Mrs. Fieldstone's weight and style ofbeauty--for she was by no means unhandsome--left Ralph entirelyunmoved. "Last night," she sobbed, "he ain't even telephoned!"

  "Well," Miss Schwartz said soothingly, "you've got to expect that inthe show business. Believe me, Mrs. Fieldstone, you should ought tojump right in with a motion for alimony before he spends it all on themothers."

  "That's where you make a big mistake, Miss Schwartz," Mrs. Fieldstonesaid indignantly. "My Jake ain't got no eyes for no other woman but me!It ain't that, I know! If it was I wouldn't stick at nothing. I'ddivorce him like a dawg! The thing is--now--I consider should I sue himin the courts for a separation or shouldn't I wait to see if hewouldn't quit staying out all night. Mr. Bienenflug wants me I shoulddo it--but I don't know."

  She sighed tremulously and opened wide the flap of her handbag, whichwas fitted with a mirror and a powder puff; and after she had made goodthe emotional ravages to her complexion she rose to her feet.

  "Listen, Miss Schwartz. I think I'll think it over and come backto-morrow," she said.

  "But, Mrs. Fieldstone," Miss Schwartz protested, "won't you wait tillMr. Bienenflug gets
through? He'll be out in a minute."

  "He didn't have no business to leave me stay here," Mrs. Fieldstonereplied. "I was here first; but, anyhow, I'll be back to-morrow or so."Here she put on her gloves. "Furthermore, I ain't in no hurry," shesaid. "When you've been married to a man sixteen years, twenty-fourhours more or less about getting a divorce don't make no difference oneway or the other." She opened the door leading into the hall. "And,anyhow," she declared finally, "I ain't going to get no divorceanyway."

  Miss Schwartz shrugged her shoulders.

  "My _tzuris_ if you get a divorce or not!" she said as she heard theelevator door close behind Mrs. Fieldstone.

  "I hope she does!" Ralph said fervently. "He's nothing but a dawg--thatfellow Fieldstone ain't!"

  "Most of 'em are dawgs--those big managers," Miss Schwartz said; "and,what with their wives and their actors, they lead a dawg's life, too."

  Further discussion was prevented by the appearance of Miss Haig and Mr.Bienenflug from Room 6020.

  "I can throw the bluff all right," Mr. Bienenflug was saying; "though Itell you right now, Miss Haig, you haven't any cause of action; and ifyou did have one there wouldn't be much use in suing on it."

  He shook his head sorrowfully.

  "A producing manager has to get a couple of judgments entered againsthim every week, otherwise every one'd think he was an easy mark," hecommented; "and that's why I say there ain't any money in the showbusiness for the plaintiff's attorney--unless it's an action fordivorce." Here he snapped his fingers as he realized that he hadcompletely forgotten Mrs. Fieldstone during his twenty-minuteconsultation with Miss Haig. "Well, good-bye, Miss Haig," he said,pressing her hand warmly. "I've got some one in there waiting to seeme."

  "No, you ain't," Ralph blurted out. "Mrs. Fieldstone went away a fewminutes ago; and she said----"

  "Went away!" Mr. Bienenflug exclaimed. "Went away! And you let her?"

  "He ain't no cop, Mr. Bienenflug," Miss Schwartz said, coming toRalph's defence. "What did you want him to do--put handcuffs on her?"

  "So," Bienenflug said bitterly, "you let Mrs. Fieldstone go out of thisoffice with a counsel fee of two thousand dollars and a rake-off on twohundred a week alimony!"

  "Alimony!" Miss Haig cried, with an excellent assumption of surprise."Is Mrs. Fieldstone suing Mont for divorce?"

  She was attempting a diversion in Ralph's favour, but it was no use.

  "Excuse me, Miss Haig," Bienenflug said raspingly, for in the light ofhis vanished counsel fee and alimony he knew now that Miss Haig was asiren, a vampire, and altogether a dangerous female. "I don't discussone client's affairs with another!"

  "Oh, all right!" Miss Haig said, and she walked out into the hallwayand slammed the door behind her.

  "Now you get out of here!" Bienenflug shouted, and Ralph barely hadtime to grab his hat when he found himself in front of the elevatorswith Miss Haig.

  "What's the matter?" she said. "Did Mr. Bienenflug fire you?"

  Ralph could not trust himself to words; he was too busy trying toprevent his lower lip from wagging.

  "Well," Miss Haig went on, "I guess you wouldn't have no troublefinding another job. What did he do it for?"

  "I couldn't help her skipping out," Ralph said huskily; "and besides,she ain't going to sue for no divorce, anyway. She said so before shewent."

  Miss Haig nodded and her rosebud mouth straightened into as thin a lineas one could expect of a _rouge-a-levre_ rosebud.

  "She did, eh?" she rejoined. "Well, if she was to change her mind doyou suppose Bienenflug would give you back your job?"

  "Maybe!" Ralph said.

  "Then here's your chance!" Miss Haig said. "You're a smart kid, Ralph;so all you've got to do is to get Mrs. Fieldstone round to Sam's athalf-past eleven to-night--and if she don't change her mind I miss myguess."

  "Why will she?" Ralph asked.

  "Because," Miss Haig replied, as she made ready to descend in theelevator, "just about that time Fieldstone'll be pretty near kissingher to make her take fifty dollars a week less than she'll ask."

  "Kissing who?" Ralph demanded.

  "Be there at half-past eleven," Miss Haig said, "and you'll see!"

  * * * * *

  Though Ralph Zinsheimer had performed the functions of an office boy inRooms 6000 to 6020 he was, in fact, "over and above the age of eighteenyears," as prescribed by that section of the Code of Civil Proceduredealing with the service of process. Indeed he was so manly for his agethat Mr. Bienenflug in moments of enthusiasm had occasionally referredto him as "our managing clerk, Mr. Zinsheimer," and it was in thisassumed capacity that he had sought Mrs. Fieldstone and had at lengthpersuaded her to go down to Sam's with him.

  "A young man of your age ought to be home and in bed long before this,"she said as they turned the corner of Sixth Avenue precisely athalf-past eleven.

  "I got my duties to perform the same as anybody else, Mrs. Fieldstone;and what Mr. Bienenflug tells me to do I must do," he retorted. "Also,you should remember what I told you about not eating nothing on meexcept oysters and a glass of beer, maybe, as I forgot to bring muchmoney with me from the office."

  "I didn't come down here to eat," Mrs. Fieldstone said, with a catch inher voice.

  "Even so, Mrs. Fieldstone, don't you try to start nothing with thiswoman, as you never know what you're stacking up against in cafes,"Ralph warned her. "Young Hartigan, the featherweight champion of theworld, used to be a--now--coat boy in Sam's; and they got severalwaiters working there who has also graduated from the preliminaryclass."

  "I wouldn't open my head at all," Mrs. Fieldstone promised; and withthis assurance they entered the most southerly of the three doors toSam's.

  One of the penalties of being one of the few restaurants in New Yorkpermitted to do business between one A.M. and six A.M. was that Sam'sCafe and Restaurant did a light business between six P.M. and one A.M.;and consequently at eleven-thirty P.M. J. Montgomery Fieldstone andMiss Goldie Raymond were the only occupants of the south dining-room.

  It is true that there were other customers seated in the middle andnorth dining-rooms--conspicuously Mr. Sidney Rossmore and Miss VivianHaig; and it was this young lady who, though hidden from J. MontgomeryFieldstone's view, formed one of the subsidiary heads of his discoursewith Miss Raymond.

  "Well, I wish you could 'a' seen her, kid!" he said to Miss Raymond."My little girl seven years old has took of Professor Rheinberger plainand fancy dancing for three weeks only, and she's a regular Pavlowaalready alongside of Haig. She's heavy on her feet like an elephant!"

  "You should tell me that!" Miss Raymond exclaimed. "Ain't I seen her?"

  "And yet you claim I considered giving her this part in the new piece,"Fieldstone said indignantly. "I'm honestly surprised at you, kid!"

  "Oh, you'd do anything to save fifty dollars a week on your salarylist," she retorted.

  "About that fifty dollars, listen to me, Goldie!" Fieldstone began,just as Ralph and Mrs. Fieldstone came through the revolving doors. "Idon't want you to think I'm small, see? And if you say you must haveit, why, I'll give it to you." He leaned forward and smiled affably ather. "After the thirtieth week!" he concluded in seductive tones.

  "Right from the day we open!" Miss Raymond said, tapping the tableclothwith her fingertips.

  "Now, sweetheart," Fieldstone began, as he seized her hand and squeezedit affectionately, "you know as well as I do when I say a thing I meanit, because----"

  And it was here that Mrs. Fieldstone, losing all control of herself andall remembrance of Ralph's admonition, took the aisle in as few leapsas her fashionable skirt permitted and brought up heavily against herhusband's table.

  "Jake!" she cried hysterically. "Jake, what is this?"

  Fieldstone dropped Miss Raymond's hand and jumped out of his chair.

  "Why, mommer!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter? Is the children sick?"

  He caught her by the arm, but she shook him off and turnedthreatenin
gly to Miss Raymond.

  "You hussy, you!" she said. "What do you mean by it?"

  Miss Goldie Raymond stood up and glared at Mrs. Fieldstone.

  "Hussy yourself!" she said. "Who are you calling a hussy? Mont, are yougoing to stand there and hear me called a hussy?"

  Fieldstone paid no attention to this demand. He was clawingaffectionately at his wife's arm and repeating, "Listen, mommer!Listen!" in anguished protest.

  "I would call you what I please!" Mrs. Fieldstone panted. "I would callyou worser yet; and----"

  Miss Raymond, however, decided to wait no longer for a champion; and,as the sporting writers would say, she headed a left swing for Mrs.Fieldstone's chin. But it never landed, because two vigorous arms,newly whitened with an emulsion of zinc oxide, were thrown round herwaist and she was dragged back into her chair.

  "Don't you dare touch that lady, Goldie Raymond!" said a voice that canonly be described as clear and vibrant, despite the speaker's recentexhausting solo in the second act of "Rudolph Where Have You Been.""Don't you dare touch that lady, or I'll lift the face off you!"

  Miss Raymond was no sooner seated, however, than she sprang up againand with one begemmed hand secured a firm hold on the bird of paradisein Miss Vivian Haig's hat.

  "No one can make a mum out of me!" she proclaimed, and at once closedwith her adversary.

  Simultaneously Mrs. Fieldstone shrieked aloud and sank swooning intothe arms of her husband. As for Sidney Rossmore and Ralph Zinsheimer,they lingered to see no more; but at the first outcry they fled througha doorway at the end of the room. In the upper part it was fitted witha ground-glass panel that, as if in derision, bore the legend: Cafe forMen Only.

  When they emerged a few minutes later Miss Goldie Raymond had beenspirited away by the management with the mysterious rapidity of asuicide at Monte Carlo, and Miss Vivian Haig, hatless and dishevelled,was laving Mrs. Fieldstone's forehead with brandy, supplied by themanagement at forty cents a pony.

  "You know me, don't you, Mrs. Fieldstone?" Miss Vivian Haig said. "I'mHattie Katzberger."

  Mrs. Fieldstone had now been laved with upward of two dollars and fortycents' worth of brandy, and she opened her eyes and nodded weakly.

  "And you know that other woman, too, mommer," Fieldstone protested."That was Goldie Raymond that plays Mitzi in 'Rudolph.' I was onlytrying to get her to sign up for the new show, mommer. What do youthink?--I would do anything otherwise at my time of life! Foolishwoman, you!"

  He pinched Mrs. Fieldstone's pale cheek and she smiled at him incomplete understanding.

  "But you ain't going to give her the new part now, are you, Jake?" shemurmured.

  "Certainly he ain't!" Miss Vivian Haig said. "I'm going to get thatpart myself, ain't I, Mr. Fieldstone?"

  Fieldstone made a gesture of complete surrender.

  "Sure you are!" he said, with the earnestness of a waist manufacturerand not a producing manager. "And a good dancer like you," heconcluded, "I would pay the same figure as Goldie Raymond."

  * * * * *

  The following morning Lyman J. Bienenflug dispatched to Mrs. J.Montgomery Fieldstone a bill for professional services, consultationand advice in and about settlement of action for a separation--Fieldstoneversus Fieldstone--six hundred dollars. He also dispatched to MissVivian Haig another bill for professional services, consultation andadvice in and about settlement of action for breach of contract ofemployment--Haig versus Fieldstone--two hundred and fifty dollars.

  Later in the day Ralph Zinsheimer, managing clerk in the office ofBienenflug & Krimp, and over and above the age of eighteen years asprescribed by the Code, served a copy of the summons and complaint oneach of the joint tort-feasors in the ten-thousand dollar assaultaction of Goldie Raymond, plaintiff, against J. Montgomery Fieldstoneand others, defendants. There were important changes that evening inthe cast of "Rudolph Where Have You Been."

  CHAPTER TEN

  CAVEAT EMPTOR

  For many years Mr. Herman Wolfson had so conducted the auctioneeringbusiness that he could look the whole world, including the districtattorney, in the eye and tell 'em to go jump on themselves. This was byno means an easy thing to do, when the wavering line of demarcationbetween right and wrong often depends on the construction of a comma inthe Code of Criminal Procedure. Nevertheless, under the competentadvice of Henry D. Feldman, that eminent legal practitioner, Mr.Wolfson had prospered; and although his specialty was the purchasing_en bloc_ of the stock in trade and fixtures of failing shopkeepers,not once had he been obliged to turn over his purchases to the host ofclamouring creditors.

  "My skirts I keep it clean," he explained to Philip Borrochson, whoseretail jewellery business had proved a losing venture and was,therefore, being acquired by Mr. Wolfson at five hundred dollars lessthan its actual value, "and if I got an idee you was out to dosomebody--myself or anybody else--I wouldn't have nothing to do withyou, Mr. Borrochson."

  The conversation took place in the business premises of Mr. Borrochson,a small, poorly-stocked store on Third Avenue, one Sunday morning inJanuary, which is always a precarious month in the jewellery trade.

  "If it should be the last word what I ever told it you, Mr. Wolfson,"Borrochson declared, "I ain't got even a piece of wrapping-paper onmemorandum. Everything in my stock is a straight purchase at sixty andninety days. You can take my word for it."

  Mr. Wolfson nodded.

  "When I close the deal to buy the place, Borrochson," he said, "I'lltake more as your word for it. You got a writing from me just now, andI'll get a writing from you. I'll take your affidavit, the same whatHenry D. Feldman draws it in every case when I buy stores. There ain'tnever no mistakes in them affidavits, neither, Borrochson, otherwisethe party what makes it is got ten years to wait before he makesanother one."

  "Sure, I know it, you can make me arrested if I faked you, Mr.Wolfson," Borrochson replied, "but this is straight goods."

  "And how about them showcases?" Wolfson asked.

  "Only notes I give it for 'em," Borrochson answered him. "I ain't givea chattel mortgage or one of them conditional bill-off-sales on so muchas a tin tack."

  "Well, Feldman will look out for that, Borrochson," Wolfson replied,"and the safe, too."

  Borrochson started.

  "I thought I told it you about the safe," he exclaimed.

  "You ain't told me nothing about the safe," Wolfson answered. "Thewriting what I give you says the stock and fixtures."

  Borrochson took out the paper which Wolfson had just signed, andexamined it carefully.

  "You're wrong," Borrochson said. "I stuck it in the words 'without thesafe' before you signed it."

  Wolfson rose heavily to his feet.

  "Let see it the writing," he said, making a grab for it.

  "It's all right," Borrochson replied. "Here it is, black on white,'without the safe.'"

  "Then you done me out of it," Wolfson cried.

  "I didn't done you out of nothing," Borrochson retorted. "You should ofread it over before you signed it, and, anyhow, what difference doesthe safe make? It ain't worth fifty dollars if it was brand-new."

  "Without a safe a jewellery stock is nothing," Wolfson said. "So if youtold it me you wouldn't sell the safe I wouldn't of signed the paper.You cheated me."

  He walked toward the door of the store and had about reached it when itburst open to admit a tall, slight man with haggard face and blazingeyes. He rushed past Wolfson, who turned and stared after him.

  "Mr. Borrochson," the newcomer cried, "what's the use your fooling meany longer? Five hundred dollars I will give for the safe, and that'smy last word."

  "Sssh!" Borrochson hissed, and drew his visitor toward the end of thestore. There a whispered conversation took place with frequentoutbursts of sacred and profane exclamations from the tall, slenderperson, who finally smacked Borrochson's face with a resounding slapand ran out of the store.

  "Bloodsucker!" he yelled as he slammed the door behind him. "You wan
tmy life."

  Wolfson stared first at the departing stranger and then at Borrochson,who was thoughtfully rubbing his red and smarting cheek.

  "It goes too far!" Borrochson cried. "Twicet already he does that to meand makes also my nose bleed. The next time I make him arrested."

  "What's the matter with him?" Wolfson asked. "Is he crazy?"

  "He makes me crazy," Borrochson replied. "I wish I never seen thesafe."

  "The safe!" Wolfson exclaimed. "What's he got to do with the safe?"

  "Oh, nothing," Borrochson answered guardedly; "just a little businessbetween him and me about it."

  "But, Mr. Borrochson," Wolfson coaxed, "there can't be no harm intelling me about it."

  He handed a cigar to Borrochson, who examined it suspiciously and putit in his pocket.

  "Seed tobacco always makes me a stomachache," he said, "unless I smokeit after a meal."

  "That ain't no seed tobacco," Wolfson protested; "that's a clear Havanacigar. But anyhow, what's the matter with this here Who's-this and thesafe?"

  "Well," Borrochson commenced, "the feller's name is Rubin, and he makesit a failure in the jewellery business on Rivington Street last Junealready. I went and bought the safe at the receiver's sale, and eversince I got it yet he bothered the life out of me I should sell himback the safe."

  "Well, why don't you do it?"

  "Because we can't come to terms," Borrochson replied. "He wants to giveme five hundred for the safe, and I couldn't take it a cent less thanseven-fifty."

  "But what did you give for the safe when you bought it originallyalready?" Wolfson asked.

  "Forty-five dollars."

  Wolfson whistled.

  "What's the matter with it?" he said finally.

  "To tell you the candid and honest truth," Borrochson replied, "I don'tsee nothing the matter with the safe. Fifty dollars I paid it toexperts who looked at that safe with telescopes already, like they wasdoctors, and they couldn't find nothing the matter with it, neither.The safe is a safe, they say, and that's all there is to it."

  Wolfson nodded gravely.

  "But there must be something the matter with the safe. Ain't it?"

  "Sure, there must be," Borrochson agreed, "and if Rubin don't want tobuy it back, either I will blow it up the safe or melt it down."

  "That would be a foolish thing to do," Wolfson said.

  "Well, if the safe is worth five hundred to Rubin," Borrochsondeclared, "it's worth seven hundred and fifty to me. That's the way Ifigure it."

  Wolfson blew great clouds from one of his seed tobacco cigars andpondered for a minute.

  "I tell you what I'll do, Borrochson," he said at last. "Give me a dayto examine the safe and I'll make you an offer right now of fivehundred and fifty for it."

  Borrochson laughed raucously.

  "What do you think I am?" he said. "A greenhorn?"

  Then commenced a hard, long battle in which a truce was declared at sixhundred dollars.

  "But mind you," Wolfson said, "I should be alone when I examine thesafe."

  "Alone without a safe feller you couldn't do nothing," Borrochsondeclared, "but if you mean that I shouldn't be there to see the wholething, I tell you now the deal is off."

  "Don't you trust me?" Wolfson asked, in accents of hurt astonishment.

  "Sure I trust you," Borrochson said; "but if you should find it a bigdiamond, we will say, for instance, in that safe, where would I comein?"

  "You think I would steal the diamond and tell you nothing, and thenrefuse to take the safe?" Wolfson asked.

  "I don't think nothing," Borrochson replied stubbornly, and lapsed intosilence.

  Here was a deadlock that bade fair to break up the deal.

  "Take a chance on me, Borrochson," Wolfson said at last.

  "Why should I take a chance on you, Wolfson," Borrochson replied, "whenwe can both take a chance on the safe? If you don't want to take it, Iwill take it. You don't got to buy the safe, Wolfson, if you don't wantto."

  For five minutes more Wolfson pondered and at length he surrendered.

  "All right," he said. "I'll make you this proposition: If I find itanything in the safe I will pay you six hundred, and if I don't find itnothing in the safe, I will pay you one hundred dollars for theprivilege of looking. I'm willing to take a chance, too."

  "That ain't no chance what you take it," Borrochson cried. "That's adead-sure certainty."

  "Why is it a certainty, Borrochson?" Wolfson retorted. "If I don't findnothing in the safe you can keep it, and then you got it one hundreddollars from me; and when Rubin comes into the store you could sell himthe safe for five hundred dollars, anyway. So which whatever way youlook at it, Borrochson, you get six hundred dollars for the safe."

  Borrochson frowned in deep consideration of the plan.

  "I tell you what it is, Wolfson," he said at last, "and this is my lastword, so sure as you stand there. If you don't want to consider it, thedeal is off. Pay me two hundred dollars now in advance and four hundreddollars additional when you find it something in the safe. That is allthere is to it."

  Wolfson looked hard at Borrochson, but there was a glitter of finalityin the jeweller's eyes that clinched things.

  "And you and the safe feller can look at the safe alone," Borrochsonconcluded.

  "I'm satisfied," Wolfson said finally, and drew a checkbook from hiswaistcoat-pocket.

  Borrochson raised his hand solemnly.

  "Either cash _oder_ nothing," was his ultimatum, and Wolfson replacedthe checkbook in his vest pocket and drew a roll of bills from histrousers. He peeled off two hundred dollars and handed it toBorrochson.

  "You see," he said, "I trust you. Ain't it?"

  "You got to trust me," Borrochson replied, as Wolfson rose to examinethe safe.

  "Who did you get to look at the safe?" he asked Borrochson.

  "Experts from everywhere," Borrochson replied. "I must of got tenfellers here from every big safe house in town. I can show you thebills already."

  Wolfson waved his hand.

  "I don't want to see 'em," he said. "But on the front of the safe I seeit, J. Daiches, maker, Grand Street, New York. Did you have him to lookat it?"

  "Daiches!" Borrochson repeated with a laugh. "I should say I didn't gethim to look at it. Why, that feller Daiches don't know no more aboutsafes than I do about aljibbery what they learn it young fellers bynight school. He come from Minsk ten years ago and made it a littlemoney as an operator on shirts. So he buys out a feller in Grand Streetand goes into the safe business since only a year ago."

  "I take a chance on him, anyhow," Wolfson declared. "So do me thefavour and go to the saloon on the corner and ring him up."

  Borrochson shrugged his shoulders.

  "You're up against a bum proposition in Daiches, Wolfson," he said,"because that feller don't know nothing about safes."

  "But he's in the safe business, ain't he? And a feller can learn awhole lot about a business inside a year."

  "A horse could pull it a truckload of books for a hundred years,Wolfson," Borrochson said, "and when he got through he wouldn't know nomore what's inside of them books than when he started; ain't it?"

  "'S enough, Borrochson," Wolfson said, "if you're afraid to trust mealone in the store here while you go and telephone, why we can lock upthe store and I will go with you."

  Accordingly they repaired to the sabbatical entrance of the nearestliquor saloon and rang up Daiches' store in Grand Street. They had nodifficulty in speaking to him, for on the lower end of Grand Streetbusiness goes forward on Sunday as briskly as on weekdays.

  "Mr. Daiches," Borrochson said, "this is Philip Borrochson from ThirdAvenue. Could you come up by my store and look over my safe?"

  "I ain't in the market for no safes, Borrochson," Daiches replied atthe other end of the telephone wire.

  "Not to buy no safes," Borrochson corrected. "There's a feller herewhat wants you to look at my safe."

  "Tell him for five dollars," Wolfson whispered in B
orrochson's ear.

  "He wants to give you five dollars for the job," Borrochson repeated.

  "For five dollars is different," Daiches answered. "I will be up inhalf an hour. Should I bring it tools?"

  Borrochson turned to Wolfson.

  "He wants to know should he bring it tools," he said.

  "Sure he should bring it tools," Wolfson cried; "powder also."

  "Powder!" Borrochson exclaimed. "What for?"

  "Powder what you blow it up with," Wolfson answered.

  "Positively not," Borrochson declared. "I wouldn't tell him nothingabout powder. Might you wouldn't find nothing in the safe, and when youblew it up already I couldn't sell it to Rubin for a button."

  He turned to the 'phone again.

  "Hullo, Daiches!" he said. "Bring up tools, sure; but remember what Itell you, you shouldn't do nothing to harm the looks of the safe."

  "Sure not," Daiches replied. "Good-bye."

  * * * * *

  An hour later J. Daiches knocked at the door of the store and wasadmitted by Borrochson.

  "Mr. Wolfson," he said, "this is J. Daiches."

  "Pleased to meetcher," Daiches replied. "Which is the job what I got todo it?"

  They led him to the safe in the rear of the store.

  "Why, that's a safe what myself I sold it," Daiches exclaimed. "What'sthe matter with it?"

  "Nothing's the matter with it," Wolfson said. "Only Borrochson shouldgo outside on the sidewalk and stick there until we get through."

  "Tell me, Wolfson," Borrochson said pleadingly, "why should I gooutside?"

  "An agreement is an agreement," Wolfson replied firmly, and Borrochsonleft the store and slammed the door behind him.

  "I'll tell you the truth, Mr. Wolfson," Daiches said; "my name is onthe safe as maker, but I didn't got nothing to do with making the safe.I bought the safe from a Broadway concern what put my name on the safe.So if the combination gets stuck it's up to them."

  "There ain't nothing the matter with the combination, Daiches," Wolfsonsaid, "only I got it an idee that safe must have a secret apartment."

  "A secret apartment!" Daiches exclaimed. "Well, if that's the casesomebody put it on after I sold it."

  Wolfson looked at Daiches, whose uninteresting face expressed all theintelligence of a tailor's lay figure.

  "Supposin' they did," Wolfson said, "it's your business to find itout."

  "I thought you said it was a _secret_ apartment."

  Wolfson made no reply; he felt that he was leaning on a broken reed,but he commenced to pull out the safe's numerous drawers, all of whichcontained cheap jewellery.

  "Let me help you do that, Mr. Wolfson," Daiches said, and suited theaction to the word by seizing the top drawer on the left-hand side ofthe safe. He jerked it clumsily from its frame without supporting therear, and the next moment it fell heavily to the floor.

  "Idiot!" Wolfson hissed, but simultaneously Daiches emitted a cry.

  He pointed excitedly to the floor where the drawer lay upside down. Asmall velvet-lined tray extended from the rear of the drawer, whilescattered on the floor beneath lay six unset diamonds that winked andsparkled in the half-light of the shuttered store.

  Wolfson made a dart for the stones and had managed to tuck away threeof them in his waistcoat pocket when Borrochson burst into the storeand ran up to the safe.

  "What's the matter?" he gasped.

  Wolfson wiped his forehead before replying.

  "Nothing's the matter," he croaked. "What for you come into the store?Ain't you agreed you shouldn't?"

  "Where did them diamonds come from?" Borrochson demanded, pointing tothe three gems on the dusty floor.

  "I dropped a drawer, the top one on the left-hand side," Daiches said,lifting up the drawer and pointing to the secret slide in its rear,"and this here little tray jumps out."

  Wolfson turned on the little safe dealer with a terrible glare.

  "You got to tell everything what you know," he bellowed.

  Borrochson smiled grimly.

  "I guess it's a good thing that I come in when I did, otherwise youwould of schmeared Daiches a fifty dollar note that he shouldn't tellme nothing about it, and then you would of copped out them diamonds andtold me you didn't find it nothing. Ain't it?" he said.

  Wolfson blushed.

  "If you would say I am a thief, Borrochson," he thundered, "I will makefor you a couple blue eyes what you wouldn't like already."

  "I ain't saying nothing," Borrochson replied. "All I want is you shouldpay me four hundred dollars balance on the safe and twenty-six hundredand fifty what we agreed on for the store and I am satisfied."

  "And how about my five dollars?" Daiches cried.

  "That I will pay it you myself," Borrochson said.

  "Don't do me no favours, Borrochson," Wolfson exclaimed, "I will settlewith Daiches."

  "But," Daiches broke in again, "how about them diamonds, Mr. Wolfson?"

  He looked significantly at Wolfson's waistcoat pocket.

  "What diamonds?" Borrochson asked.

  "He means the diamonds what you just picked up off the floor," Wolfsonhastened to explain. "He wants his rakeoff, too, I suppose."

  He fastened another hypnotic glare on the shrinking Daiches and, takingthe remaining diamonds from Borrochson, he put them with the others inhis vest pocket.

  "Well," he concluded, "that I will settle with him, too. To-morrow isMonday and we will all meet at Feldman's office at two o'clock.Daiches, you and me will go downtown together and take it a littledinner and some wine, maybe. What?"

  He took Daiches' arm in a viselike grasp and started to lead him fromthe store.

  "Hold on there!" Borrochson cried. "How about them diamonds? You gotthe diamonds and all I get is two hundred dollars. What security have Igot it that you don't skip out with the diamonds and give me therinky-dinks? Ain't it?"

  "About the stock and fixtures, you got it a writing from me. Ain't it?"Wolfson cried. "And about the safe, Daiches here is a witness. I giveyou two hundred dollars a while ago, and the balance of four hundreddollars I will pay it you to-morrow at two o'clock when we close."

  He took the keys of the store from Borrochson after the door waslocked, and once more he led Daiches to the street.

  "Yes, Daiches," he said, as they neared the elevated station, "that'sthe way it is when a feller's tongue runs away with him. You prettynear done yourself out of a fine diamond."

  "A fine diamond!" Daiches exclaimed. "What d'ye mean?"

  "I mean, if you wouldn't say nothing to Borrochson about them diamondswhat I stuck it in my waistcoat pocket before he seen 'em, as soon aswe close the deal I give you one. Because if you should say somethingto Borrochson, it would bust up the deal; and might he would sue me inthe courts for the diamonds already."

  A shrewd glitter came into Daiches' eyes.

  "That's where you make it a mistake, Mr. Wolfson," he said. "If yougive it me the diamond now, Mr. Wolfson, I sure wouldn't say nothing toBorrochson about it, because I run it the risk of losing the diamond ifI do. But if you wouldn't give it me the diamond till after the deal isclosed, then you wouldn't need to give it me at all; y'understand?"

  Wolfson stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk.

  "You are a fine schwindler!" he said.

  "Whether I am a schwindler or I ain't a schwindler, Mr. Wolfson, is gotno effect on me," Daiches replied stolidly; "for otherwise, if I don'tget it the diamond right this minute I will go back and tell it allabout the diamonds to Borrochson."

  Wolfson clenched his right fist and grasped Daiches by the shoulderwith his left hand.

  "You dirty dawg!" he began, when a tall, slender person bumped intohim. The intruder was muttering to himself and his face was ghastlywith an almost unnatural whiteness.

  "Rubin!" Wolfson cried, and stared after the distracted Rubin whoseemed to stagger as he half ran down the street.

  "Leggo from my arm," Daiches said, "or I'll----"<
br />
  Wolfson came to himself with a start. After all, Rubin would be aroundthe next day to buy back his safe, and Wolfson argued that he might aswell be rid of Daiches.

  "All right, Daiches," he said, "I'll give you a diamond."

  He stopped under a lamppost and carefully placed the six diamonds in alittle row on the flat of his hand between his second and thirdfingers. Then he selected the smallest of the six stones and handed itto Daiches.

  "Take it and should you never have no luck so long as you wear it," hegrunted.

  "Don't worry yourself about that, Mr. Wolfson," Daiches said with asmile. "I ain't going to wear it; I'm going to sell it to-morrow."

  He folded it into a piece of paper and placed it in his greasy wallet,out of which he extracted a card.

  "Here is also my card, Mr. Wolfson," he said with a smile. "Any timeyou want some more work done by safes, let me know; that's all."

  * * * * *

  When Borrochson and Wolfson met the next afternoon in the office of thelatter's attorney, Henry D. Feldman, they wasted no courtesy on eachother.

  "Feldman has sent up and searched the Register's office for chattelmortgages and conditional bill-off-sales, and he don't find none,"Wolfson announced. "So everything is ready."

  "I'm glad to hear it," Borrochson said. "When I get into a piece ofbusiness with a bloodsucker like you, Wolfson, I am afraid for my lifetill I get through."

  "If I would be the kind of bloodsucker what you are, Borrochson,"Wolfson retorted, "I would be calling a decent, respectable man out ofhis name. What did I ever done to you, Borrochson?"

  "You tried your best you should do me, Wolfson," Borrochson replied.

  "You judge me by what you would have done if you had been in my place,Borrochson," Wolfson rejoined.

  "Never mind," Borrochson said. "Now we will close the whole thing up,and I want it distinctively understood that there should be nocomebacks, Wolfson. You seen it my stock and fixtures, also my safe?"

  "Sure I seen it and examined everything, and I don't take your word fornothing, Borrochson," Wolfson declared as they were summoned into thepresence of Feldman himself.

  There Borrochson executed a bill-of-sale of the stock, fixtures, andsafe, in which he swore that he was their sole owner.

  "It is distinctively understood," Borrochson said, as he dipped his penin the ink to sign the affidavit, "that I don't guarantee nothing butwhat I am the owner of the goods. Quality and quantity he got to judgeit for himself."

  Mr. Feldman bowed.

  "In the absence of a specific warranty the same doctrine applies inthis as in any other case," he replied sonorously, "and that is thedoctrine of _caveat emptor_."

  "Caviare?" Wolfson murmured in complete mystification. "What forcaviare is that?"

  "_Caveat_, not caviare," Feldman replied. "_Caveat emptor_ means 'Letthe purchaser beware.'"

  Wolfson heaved a deep sigh.

  "I bet yer it applies in this case," he commented; "if ever a purchaserhad to beware it is in this case."

  Borrochson grunted and then pocketed Wolfson's certified check for thebalance of the purchase price, including the four hundred dollars duefor the safe. A minute later he departed, leaving Feldman alone withhis client.

  "Mr. Feldman," he said as soon as Borrochson had gone, "supposing afeller thinks that a safe has got diamonds into it, and supposing I gotthat safe, but I know there ain't no diamonds into it because I took'em out already. And supposing that feller doesn't think that I knowthere was diamonds into the safe because them diamonds was supposed tobe in a secret apartment what he only is supposed to know it. Supposinghe buys the safe from me, thinking them diamonds is still into it, andpays me six hundred dollars for a safe what is only worth fifty. Wouldthere be any comeback?"

  "Decidedly not. And I sincerely hope you haven't been buying any suchsafe."

  "_Gott soll hueten!_" Wolfson exclaimed.

  "No, indeed, there will be no recourse to the vendor," Feldman replied."The doctrine of _caveat emptor_ would apply in that case, too."

  Wolfson was effusive in his thanks and hastened to return to hisrecently acquired jewellery business.

  When he left the elevated station on the way to the store Wolfsonglanced around him for the haggard features and the attenuated form ofRubin, but without avail. He unlocked the store door and immediatelymade a thorough examination of the stock and fixtures. Nothing wasmissing, and, after consulting the figures furnished him by Borrochson,he succeeded in opening the combination lock of the Rubin safe. He tookout the top drawer on the left-hand side and scrutinized it carefully.No one could have detected the secret slide, which was now replaced.Nevertheless, he found that, unless the drawer was handled with theutmost delicacy, the secret slide invariably jerked out, for theslightest jar released the controlling spring.

  "The wonder is to me," he muttered, "not that Daiches and me discoveredit, but that Borrochson shouldn't have found it out."

  He pondered over the situation for several minutes. If Rubin came in tobuy the safe, he argued, the first thing he would do would be to lookat the drawer, and in his feverish haste the slide would be bound toopen. Once Rubin saw that the diamonds were missing the jig would be upand he, Wolfson, would be stuck with the safe. At length he slapped histhigh.

  "I got it," he said to himself. "I'll shut the safe and lock it andclaim I ain't got the combination. Borrochson must have changed it whenhe bought it at Rubin's bankruptcy sale, and so Rubin couldn't open itwithout an expert, anyhow. And I wouldn't bargain with Rubin, neither.He wants the safe for five hundred dollars; he shall have it."

  After emptying it of all its contents he closed and locked the safe andsat down to await developments. Four o'clock struck from the clocktower on Madison Square and Rubin had not arrived yet, so Wolfson lit afresh cigar and beguiled his vigil with a paper he had found under thesafe.

  "I guess I'll lock up and go to my dinner," he said at eight o'clock."To-morrow is another day, and if he don't come to-day he'll cometo-morrow yet."

  Half an hour later he sat at a table in Glauber's restaurant on GrandStreet, consuming a dish of _paprika schnitzel_. At the side of hisplate a cup of fragrant coffee steamed into his nostrils and he felt atpeace with all the world. After the first cup he grew quite mollifiedtoward Borrochson, and it was even in his heart to pity Rubin both forthe loss he had sustained and the disappointment he was still tosuffer. As for Daiches, he had completely passed out of Wolfson's mind,but just as pride goeth before a fall, ease is often the immediatepredecessor of discomfort.

  Perhaps there is nothing more uncomfortable than to receive a glassfulof cold water in the back of the neck, and although Wolfson's neckbulged over his celluloid collar so that none of the icy fluid wentdown his back, the experience was far from agreeable. After the shockhad spent itself he turned around to find J. Daiches struggling in thegrasp of two husky waiters.

  "Schwindler!" Daiches howled, as he was propelled violently toward thedoor. "For all what I have done for you, you give me a piece fromglass."

  "Wait a bit!" Wolfson cried. "What is that he says about a piece fromglass?"

  But the waiters were too quick for him, and Daiches struck the cartracks and bounded east on Grand Street, toward his place of business,before Wolfson had an opportunity to question him.

  Wolfson returned to his table without further appetite for his food.Hastily and with trembling fingers he took from his wallet atissue-paper package wrapped after the fashion of a seidlitz powder.This he opened and exposed five glittering gems, but it seemed now toWolfson that they possessed almost a spurious brilliancy. He glancedaround nervously and at a table in the rear of the room he espiedSigmund Pollak, the pawnbroker, who could appraise a gem at a minute'snotice by virtue of his long experience with impecunious customers.

  At a frenzied gesture from Wolfson, Pollak leisurely crossed the room.

  "Hullo, Wolfson," he said, "what's the trouble now?"

  "Nothing,
" Wolfson replied, "only I want it you should do me a favourand look at these here diamonds."

  Pollak examined them carefully.

  "How much did you give for 'em?" he asked.

  "I didn't give nothing for 'em," Wolfson replied. "I found 'em in asafe what I bought it from a feller by the name Philip Borrochson, inthe jewellery business."

  "Well," Pollak replied slowly, "you ain't made nothing by 'em andBorrochson ain't lost nothing by 'em, because they ain't worth nothing.They're just paste. In fact, there's a lot of that stuff aroundnowadays. A feller by the name Daiches showed me one of 'em about halfan hour ago yet, and wants to sell it to me. I offered him a quarterfor it."

  Pollak returned the paste gems to Wolfson, who tossed them into histrousers-pocket with a nonchalance engendered of many years' pokerplaying.

  "Have a little something to drink, Pollak?" he said.

  "Thanks, I shouldn't mind if I did," Pollak replied. "By the way, ain'tthat your friend Borrochson what is coming in now?"

  Wolfson again turned around in his chair, and this time, despite hispoker training, he was shaken out of all self-possession.

  "Who's this here tall, white-face feller what comes in with him?" hehissed.

  "Him?" Pollak answered. "Why, that's a great friend from Borrochson's,a feller by the name Rubin what is one of the actors by the Yiddishertheayter."

  Wolfson faced about again and essayed to tackle his _schnitzel_.

  "Say, Pollak," he croaked, "d'ye want to buy a good safe cheap?"

  THE END

  THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESSGARDEN CITY, N.Y.