“Sure, I know,” Mozart replied, “but he got set back a couple of four hundred hands last Tuesday night with Katzen and me in the game, and the way he settles up his losing is that Katzen and me should take his commissions on a couple of orders which he says he is going to get from Simon Kuhner, of Mandleberger Brothers & Co., and Chester Prosnauer, of the Arcade Mercantile Company.  Sure enough, he gets the orders from both of ’em the very next morning.  That’s the kind of salesman he is.”

“But why didn’t Pasinsky send us along the orders, Moe,” Abe protested, “and we could fix up about the commissions later?  Why should he sent it the orders to Klinger & Klein and Sammet Brothers?”

“Well, you see, business was poor with me and I wanted to make good, being as this was my first trip with the concern; so, as a favor to me Pasinsky turns over the whole order to me,” Mozart explained; “and then, when Katzen sees that, he wants the other order sent to his concern, too.”

“But this was Pasinsky’s first trip by us, also,” Abe cried.

“I know it,” Mozart said, “but Pasinsky says that he didn’t care, because a good salesman like him could always find it an opening somewhere, and anyway he wasn’t stuck on working for a piker concern like yours.”

Abe rose with his eyes ablaze.

“That settles it,” he said, jamming his hat on his head.  “I’m going for a policeman.  I’ll teach that sucker to steal my orders!”

He bounced out of the room and, as he rang for the elevator, Isolde’s lament once more issued from beneath.  Mozart Rabiner’s fingers: 

    Mild und leise wie er laechelt
    Wie das Auge hold er oeffnet

While from the floor above came the full, round tones of the salesman, Marks Pasinsky.

“Sixty queens,” he said.

Abe ran out of the hotel lobby straight into the arms of a short, stout person.

“Excuse me,” Abe exclaimed.

“I’ll excuse you, Potash,” said the short, stout person, “but I wouldn’t run like that if I got it the rheumatism so bad.”

Abe looked at the speaker and gasped.  It was B. Gans.

“What are you doing in Chicago, Potash?” Gans asked.

“You should ask me that,” Abe snorted indignantly.  “If it wouldn’t be for you I wouldn’t never got to leave New York.”

“What do you mean?” Gans asked.

“I mean you gives me a good reference for this feller Marks Pasinsky,” Abe shouted.  “And even now I am on my way out for a policeman to make this here Pasinsky arrested.”

B. Gans whistled.  He surrendered to a bell-boy the small valise he carried and clutched Abe’s arm.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said.  “Come inside the cafe and tell me all about it.”

Abe shook himself free.

“Why shouldn’t I make him arrested?” he insisted.  “He’s a thief.  He stole my samples.”

“Well, he stole my samples, too, oncet,” B. Gans replied.  “Come inside the cafe and I’ll give you a little sad story what I got, too.”