herwise the thing is off."

"Sure, it goes, Mr. Potash," Sidney cried.

Abe looked the Heir Apparent squarely in the eye for two minutes and
then he struck the table again.

"I believe you, Sidney," he said, "and we will right away take the car
down to West Washington Place."

Katzberg & Schapp occupied the top floor of an old private house; but
what their place of business lacked in size it made up in activity.
Pressing irons were sizzling and banging and sewing machines were
burring loudly as Abe and Sidney climbed the stairs. When they entered,
Shapolnik, the butterfly of fashion, had once more assumed the chrysalis
of his working clothes.

"How do you do, Mister Potash?" he cried, all in one breath. "Excuse me;
I am looking like a slob. We are busy like dawgs here. Katzberg!" he
yelled; "_Kimmen Sie hieran_."

In response, a stout figure, clad only in an undershirt, trousers and a
pair of carpet slippers, laid down a pressing iron and shuffled toward
the visitors.

"My partner, Mister Katzberg," Shapolnik announced. "He also looks a
slob, Mr. Potash; but when we are getting partitions in, and our office
fixed up, no one would see him at all. He is the inside man; and me, I
am in the office and showroom. We're going to have a showroom so soon as
we are settled--a safe too. A telephone we already got it. This is Mr.
Potash, Katzberg, and the other gentleman I don't know at all."

"Mr. Koblin," Abe explained; "he is coming to work by you as a
salesman."

"A salesman!" Katzberg exclaimed. "Why, we don't want no----"

Shapolnik turned on him with a glare.

"Katzberg," he said, "them samples you are working on we got to show the
Magnet Store this afternoon yet."

Katzberg shrugged his shoulders and returned to his pressing, while
Shapolnik drew forward two rickety chairs and a packing-box.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potash; and Mr. Cohen, too," he said.

"Koblin," Abe corrected.

"Koblin," Shapolnik repeated. "Excuse me."

He went to a closet in the corner, and unlocking it he exposed the
fashionable suit that he had worn at Potash & Perlmutter's the previous
afternoon. From the right-hand waistcoat pocket he took a red-banded
invincible and handed it to Abe.

"Have a smoke, Mr. Potash?" he said. Abe examined the cigar closely and
tucked it carefully away. Then he produced three panatelas, handed one
each to Sidney and Shapolnik and lit the other himself.

"About this here salesman, Mr. Potash," Shapolnik c