Ferdy Rothschild’s office was tucked away in an obscure corner of a small office building on Liberty Street, and as Abe plodded wearily up three flights of stairs he overtook a short, stout gentleman headed in the same direction.

“A feller what’s got his office on the top floor of a back-number building like this,” said the exhausted traveler, “should keep it airships for his customers.”

“I bet yer,” Abe gasped, as they reached the landing together, and then in silence they both walked side by side to the office of Ferdy Rothschild.

Abe opened the door and motioned his companion to enter first, whereat the stranger nodded politely and walked into the office.

“Is Mr. Rothschild in?” he said to the office-boy, who was the sole occupant of the room.

“Mr. Rothschild, now, telephoned,” the boy replied, “and he says, now, that if a guy comes in by the name of Marks to tell him he should wait.”

“Did he say he would be right in?” Mr. Marks asked.

“No,” the boy answered, “but he’ll be in soon, all right.”

“How do you know that?” Abe asked.

“Because, now, I heard him tell the other boys that he wouldn’t set no longer time limit,” the boy replied; “but he says he’d play four more deals and then he’d quit.  See?”

Mr. Marks looked at Abe and broke into a laugh.

“That’s a fine lowlife for you,” he said.  “That feller tells me I should be here at three o’clock sharp and he fools away my time like this.”

Abe nodded.

“What could you expect from a feller like that?” Abe commenced, and then broke off suddenly—­“but excuse me.  He may be a friend of yours.”

“Gott soll hueten,” Mr. Marks replied piously.  “All I got to do with him is that he brings me a proposition I should buy a piece of property which he got it to sell.”

“That’s a funny thing,” Abe said.  “I came here myself about a piece of property what I just bought, and I understand he tried to sell the property for the feller what I bought it from.”

Abe took the option from his breast pocket and opened it on his knee, while Mr. Marks glanced at it furtively, not unnoticed by Abe, who aided his companion’s inspection by spreading out the paper until its contents were plainly visible.

“Why!” Mr. Marks cried.  “Why, that is the house what this here Rothschild said he would sell it me.”

Abe looked up sharply.

“You don’t say so?” he said.  “How could he sell you that house when I got this here option on it this morning for forty-eight thousand dollars?”

“Forty-eight thousand dollars!” Mr. Marks exclaimed.  “Why, he says I could buy it for forty-six thousand dollars.”

Abe laughed with forced politeness.

“Well, if you could of got it for forty-six thousand you should of took it,” he said.  “I want forty-nine thousand for it.”

It was now Mr. Marks’ turn to laugh.