Potash & Perlmutter: Their Copartnership Ventures and Adventures. Glass Montague

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      "S'enough," Max declared. "Tell, Mr. Weinschenck to work it up into an affidavit," he continued to the stenographer, "and bring us in a jurat."

      A moment later she returned with a sheet of legal cap, on the top of which was typewritten: "Sworn to before me this first day of April, 1904."

      "Sign opposite the brace," said Max, pushing the paper at Abe, and Abe scrawled his name where indicated.

      "Now, hold up your right hand," said Max, and Abe obeyed.

      "Do you solemnly swear that the affidavit subscribed by you is true?" Max went on.

      "What affidavit?" Abe asked.

      "Why, the one Weinschenck is going to draw when he comes back from lunch, of course," Max replied.

      "Sure it's true," said Abe.

      "All right," Max concluded briskly.

      "Now give me a check for fifty dollars for my fees, five dollars for a surety company bond, and five dollars sheriff's fees, and I'll get out a replevin order on the strength of that affidavit in half an hour, and have a deputy around to the store at three o'clock to transfer the goods from Hymie to you."

      "Sixty dollars is pretty high for a little thing like that, ain't it, Max?" said Hymie.

      "High?" Max cried indignantly. "High? Why, if you wasn't a lodge brother of mine, Hymie, I wouldn't have stirred a hand for less than a hundred."

      Thus rebuked, Abe paid over the sixty dollars, and Hymie and he went back to the store. Precisely at three a deputy sheriff entered the front door and flashed a gold badge as big as a dinner-plate. His stay was brief, and in five minutes he had relieved Abe of all his spare cigars and departed, leaving only a certified copy of the replevin order and a strong smell of whisky to signalize the transfer of the Empire gowns from Hymie to Abe.

      Hardly had he banged the door behind him when a messenger boy entered and handed a telegram to Abe.

      "Ain't shipped no goods but the 4022's," it read. "Have wired Lowenstein to return the 4022s. MORRIS."

      "Fine! Fine!" Abe exclaimed. He tipped the boy a dime and was about to acquaint Hyman with the good news, when another messenger boy entered and delivered a second telegram to Abe. It read as follows:

      "Lowenstein wires he insists on delivery entire order complete, otherwise he will sue. What shall I wire him? MORRIS."

      Abe seized his hat and dashed down the street to the telegraph office.

      "Gimme a blank," he said to the operator, who handed him a whole padful. For the next twenty minutes Abe scribbled and tore up by turns until he finally evolved a satisfactory missive. This he handed to the operator, who read it with a broad grin and passed it back at once.

      "Wot d'ye take me for?" he said. "A bum? Dere's ladies in de main office."

      Abe glared at the operator and began again.

      "Here," he said to the operator after another quarter of an hour of scribbling and tearing up, "send this."

      It was in the following form:

      Don't send no more goods to Lowenstein" " " " wires " nobody

      "Fourteen words," the operator said. "Fifty-four cents."

      "What's that?" Abe cried. "What yer trying to do? Make money on me? That ain't no fourteen words. That's nine words."

      "It is, hey?" the operator rejoined. "Quit yer kiddin'. Dat's fourteen words. Ditto marks don't go, see?"

      "You're a fresh young feller," said Abe, paying over fifty-four cents, "and I got a good mind to report you to the head office."

      The operator laughed raucously.

      "G'wan!" he said. "Beat it, or I'll sick de cops onter yer. It's agin the law to cuss in Pittsburgh, even by telegraft."

      When Abe returned to the Outlet Auction House's store Hyman was busy stacking up the plum-color gowns in piles convenient for shipping.

      "Well, Abe," he said, "I thought you was here for a vacation. You're doing some pretty tall hustling for a sick man, I must say."

      "I'll tell you the truth, Hymie," Abe replied, "I ain't got no time to be sick. It ain't half-past three yet, and I guess I'll take a couple of them garments and see what I can do with the jobbing and retail trade in this here town."

      "Don't you think you'd better take it easy for a while, Abe?" Hyman suggested.

      "I am taking it easy," said Abe. "So long as I ain't working I'm resting, ain't it, Hymie? And you know as well as I do, Hymie, selling goods never was work to me. It's a pleasure, Hymie, I assure you."

      He placed two of the plum-colored Empire gowns under his arm, and thrusting his hat firmly on the back of his head made straight for the dry-goods district. Two hours later he returned, wearing a broad smile that threatened to engulf his stubby black mustache between his nose and his chin.

      "Hymie," he said, "I'm sorry I got to disturb that nice pile you made of them garments. I'll get right to work myself and assort the sizes."

      "Why, what's the trouble now, Abe?" Hyman asked.

      "I disposed of 'em, Hymie," Abe replied. "Two hundred to Hamburg and Weiss. Three hundred to the Capitol Credit Outfitting Company, and five hundred to Feinroth and Pearl."

      "Hold on there, Abe!" Hymie exclaimed. "You only got six hundred, and you sold a thousand garments."

      "I know, Hymie," said Abe, "but I'm going home to-morrow, and I got a month in which to ship the balance."

      "Going home?" Hyman cried.

      "Sure," said Abe. "I had a good long vacation, and now I got to get down to business."

      One morning, two weeks later, Abe sat with his feet cocked up on his desk in the show-room of Potash & Perlmutter's spacious cloak and suit establishment. Between his teeth he held a fine Pittsburgh cheroot at an angle of about ninety-five degrees to his protruding under-lip, and he perused with relish the business-trouble column of the Daily Cloak and Suit Record.

      "Now, what do you think of that?" he exclaimed.

      "What do I think of what, Abe?" Morris inquired.

      For answer Abe thrust the paper toward his partner with one hand, and indicated a scare headline with the other.

      "Fraudulent Bankruptcy in Galveston," it read. "A petition in bankruptcy was filed yesterday against Siegmund Lowenstein, doing business as the O'Gorman-Henderson Dry-Goods Company, in Galveston, Texas. When the Federal receiver took charge of the bankrupt's premises they were apparently swept clean of stock and fixtures. It is understood that Lowenstein has fled to Matamoros, Mexico, where his wife preceded him some two weeks ago. The liabilities are estimated at fifty thousand dollars, and the only asset is the store building, which is valued at ten thousand dollars and is subject to mortgages aggregating about the same amount. The majority of the creditors are in New York City and Boston."

СКАЧАТЬ