He paused and nodded sadly.

“But I also got it a partner, Mr. Marks, and no doubt you heard already what a cutthroat that feller is.  I assure you, Mr. Marks, that feller goes to work and gets an option on the house next door which you know is identical the same like my house is.  Yes, Mr. Marks, he gets an option on that house for forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars from the feller what owns it, when he knows I am already negotiating to sell my house for forty-seven seven-fifty.”

This willful misstatement of the amount of the option produced the desired result.

“Did you seen it the option?” Marks asked cautiously.

“Well, no, I ain’t seen it, but I heard it on good authority, Mr. Marks,” he said, and allowed himself two bars’ rest, as the musicians say, for the phrase to sink in.

“Yes, Mr. Marks, on good authority I heard it that Potash pays five hundred dollars for a two-weeks’ option at forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars.”

“Forty-seven thousand five hundred dollars?” Marks said with a rising inflection.

“Forty-seven thousand five hundred,” Morris replied blandly, “and I guess he got a pretty cheap house, too.”

“Well, I ain’t got the same opinion what you got,” Marks retorted.  “I got an opinion, Mr. Perlmutter, that your partner pays a thousand dollars too much for his house.”

“Is that so?” Morris replied, and then and there began a three-hours’ session which terminated when they struck a bargain at forty-seven thousand dollars.  Ten minutes later Marks left with a written memorandum of the terms of sale on his person while Morris pocketed a similar memorandum and fifty dollars earnest money.

The next morning an executory contract of sale was signed in Henry D. Feldman’s office, and precisely two weeks later Mr. Marks took title to Morris’ property which, after deducting all expenditures, netted its builder a profit of almost two thousand dollars.  This sum Morris deposited to the credit of the firm account of Potash & Perlmutter, and hardly had the certified check been dispatched to the Kosciusko Bank when the door opened and Rashkin and Ferdy Rothschild burst into the show-room.

“Bloodsucker!” Rashkin cried, shaking his fist under Abe’s nose.  “What for you didn’t take up your option?”

Abe stepped back hurriedly and put a sample table between himself and B. Rashkin.

“Must I take it up the option?” he said calmly.  “Couldn’t I let you keep it the four hundred dollars if I wanted to?”

Rashkin looked at Ferdy Rothschild.

“That’s a fine murderer for you.  What?” he exclaimed.

“Him, I ain’t surprised about,” Ferdy Rothschild replied, “but when a feller should do his own wife’s brother out of a commission of four hundred and sixty-five dollars, Rashkin, what a heart he must have it.  Like a piece of steel.”

“Don’t talk that way, Ferdy,” Morris commented, without emotion.  “You make me feel bad.  I got lots of consideration for you, Ferdy, after the way you treated me already.  Yes, Ferdy, I think a whole lot of you, Ferdy.  You could come to me with your tongue hanging out from hunger yet, and I wouldn’t lift a little finger.”