Part 16 (1/2)

”You says that an hour ago,” Morris grumbled as he closed the door behind him.

”Now, Mr. Kronberg,” Feldman continued, ”I'd like to elucidate this situation for you as succinctly as possible.”

”Do that afterward, if you got to do it,” Uncle Mosha broke in; ”but just now tell me what the trouble is.”

”What's the use talking to a mutt that don't understand the English language at all?” Feldman cried. ”Listen here to me. You bought your house from a fellow called Nathan Baum.”

”Sure, I did,” Uncle Mosha said. ”You remember him, Sammet? He went to work and got killed in a railroad accident ten years ago already.”

”Don't interrupt,” Feldman cried. ”Nathan Baum was the brother of Max Baum, a former owner of the house. Max Baum died while he owned the house and he left no will, and Nathan Baum claimed the house as the only heir of Max Baum.”

”That's right,” Mosha agreed. ”Nathan Baum was the only relative in the world which Max Baum got it. He had a sister, but she died before Max.”

”Was Max Baum's sister ever married?” Mr. Jones asked in funereal accents.

”Sure she was married,” Mosha answered. ”She was married to Sam Gershon.

He works for years by Richter as a cutter. Sam is dead too.”

”Did they ever have any children?” Mr. Jones inquired.

”One boy they had,” Uncle Mosha said. ”Shall I ever forget it? What a beautiful boy that was, Mr. Feldman--a regular picture! Mrs. Gershon thinks a whole lot of that boy, too, I bet yer.”

”Never mind the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, Kronberg,” Feldman broke in. ”Is the boy alive?”

”That's what we're anxious to know,” Mr. Jones interrupted. ”My company had ascertained that there was one son, but we couldn't find out if he were dead or alive.”

”If the boy was alive Mrs. Gershon would be alive too,” Mosha said.

”Mrs. Gershon died on account of that boy. What a lovely boy that was! I can see him now--the way he looked. He had eyes black like coal, and a----”

Here Uncle Mosha stopped short. His jaw dropped and his fishy gray eyes seemed to start from his head as he gazed at the door. It stood ajar some six inches and exposed the features of a person impatient to the point of frenzy.

”Ex-cuse me, Mr. Feldman!” said the intruder; ”I may be a Rube from Texas, y'understand, but I got my feelings too, and unless you come in here right away and close the matter up me and my partner would go and get our agreement fixed up somewhere else again.”

”I'll be with you in just one moment, Mr. Gershon,” Feldman replied.

”Gershon?” Uncle Mosha muttered. ”Gershon!”

He rose to his feet and tottered across the room toward the doorway, but at the threshold his strength failed him and he fell headlong to the floor.

In the scene of confusion that followed only Henry D. Feldman remained calm. He touched the electric b.u.t.ton on his desk.

”Go down to the Algonquin Building and fetch a doctor,” he said to the office-boy who responded, ”and on your way out see if we have any blank pet.i.tions for administration in the Surrogate's Court. If we haven't, buy a couple on your way back. The old man may not pull through.”

When Uncle Mosha's eyes opened in consciousness of his surroundings they rested on Max Gershon, who bent over the old man as anxiously as did either of his nephews.

”Max Gershon, ain't it?” Uncle Mosha asked feebly.

Gershon nodded.