“Ship ’em!” Abe cried.  “You shouldn’t ship nothing.  Them samples belongs to me.”

“How do I know that?” Prosnauer asked.  “Is your name engraved on ’em?”

“All right,” Abe cried, jumping to his feet.  “All right, Mr. Prosnauer.  If you are going to make jokes with me I got nothing to say, but I give you warning that you should do absolutely nothing with them samples till I send a sheriff round for them.”

“Now you’re making threats,” said Prosnauer.

“With people like Marks Pasinsky,” Abe retorted as he paused at the door, “I don’t got to make no threats.  I know who I am dealing with, Mr. Prosnauer, and so, instead I should make threats I go right away and see a lawyer, and he will deliver the goods.  That’s all I got to say.”

“Hold on there, Mr. Potash,” Prosnauer cried.  “It ain’t necessary for you to see a lawyer.  Prove to me that you own the samples and you can have ’em.”

Abe hesitated.

“Well,” he said, “if you would hold it them samples till to-morrow noon, Mr. Prosnauer, I’ll give you all the proofs you want.”

“Very well,” Prosnauer said, “I’ll hold them.  When will you be back?”

“Before twelve to-morrow,” Abe replied.  “Believe me, Mr. Prosnauer, I ain’t so stuck on paying lawyers.  If I can settle this thing up nice and friendly I would do so.”

They shook hands, and Abe retraced his steps to the hotel, where he again inquired for Marks Pasinsky.

“He hasn’t come back yet, Mr. Potash,” the clerk said, and Abe retired to the writing-room and smoked a cigar by way of a sedative.

From six o’clock that evening until midnight he smoked so many sedative cigars and made so many fruitless inquiries at the desk for Marks Pasinsky, that his own nerves as well as the night clerk’s were completely shattered.  Before Abe retired he paid a farewell visit to the desk, and both he and the clerk gave vent to their emotions in a great deal of spirited profanity.

There was no rest for Abe that night, and when at length he fell asleep it was almost daylight.  He awoke at nine and, dressing himself fireman fashion, he hurried to the desk.

“What time did Marks Pasinsky come in?” he asked the clerk.

“Why, Mr. Pasinsky didn’t come in at all,” the clerk replied.

Abe pushed his hat back from his forehead.

“Say, young feller,” he said, “do you got the gall to tell me that Marks Pasinsky ain’t come back since he went over to the Altringham with that short, dark feller yesterday afternoon?”

“Call me a liar, why don’t you?” the clerk retorted.

“You’re a fresh young feller!” Abe exclaimed.  “Couldn’t you answer a civil question?”

“Ah, don’t be worrying me with your troubles!” the clerk snarled.  “Go over to the Altringham yourself, if you think I’m stringing you.”

Abe turned without another word and hustled over to the Altringham.