Part 36 (1/2)

”Yes, I did seen it,” Emil replied, ”and it's a very elegant, grand model.”

”Sure,” the professor said; ”made in Bavaria with an ax.”

”Don't you fool yourself, Louis,” Emil retorted. ”That's an elegant instrument from Nicolo Amati's best period. If it's worth a cent it's worth three thousand dollars.”

”_Schmooes_, Emil!” Louis cried. ”What are you trying to do?--kid me?”

”What d'ye mean, kid you?” Emil asked. ”I should never stir from this spot, Louis, if that ain't an Amati. It's got a tone like gold, Louis.”

For a brief interval Louis stared at his informant.

”Do you mean to told me, Emil, that that fiddle is a real, genu-ine Amati?”

”Listen here to me, Louis,” Emil declared; ”if I wouldn't be sure that it was genu-ine why should I got such a heart that I would act that way to that feller Potash? When--so sure as you are standing there, Louis--when I told him it was a genu-ine Amati he pretty near got a fit already; and as for his partner by the name Perlmutter, he hollered so I thought he was going to spit blood already.”

Louis licked his dry lips before making any reply.

”So, then, I am paying fifteen dollars for a fiddle which it is a genu-ine Amati,” he said, ”and that brother of mine which he ain't got no more sense as a lunatic lets it go for a song already.”

”Well, I couldn't stop to talk to you now, Louis,” Emil said. ”I must got to get on the job. I am going to be to-morrow morning, ten o'clock, at this here Potash & Perlmutter's, and if you want to you could meet me there with old man Hubai.”

”Old man Hubai!” Louis cried. ”What's he got to do with it?”

”He's got a whole lot to do with it, Louis,” Emil said. ”A feller like him sells you a three-thousand-dollar violin for fifteen dollars which he ain't got a penny in the world, y'understand, and I should stand by and see him get done!”

Professor Wcelak hung his head and blushed.

”Also, Louis,” Emil concluded, ”I just rung him up at the cafe, and he says whatever he gets out of it I get half.”

When Morris Perlmutter arrived at Felix Geigermann's store the next morning he showed the effects of a restless night and no breakfast; for he had found it impossible either to eat or sleep until he had his hands on the violin.

”Mr. Geigermann went out for a minute, Mr. Potash,” a floorwalker explained; ”but he said I should show you right into his office, Mr.

Potash.”

”My name ain't Potash,” Morris replied, ”that's my partner, which he couldn't get up here on account he is sick.”

”That's all right,” the floorwalker said rea.s.suringly. ”Just step this way.”

He conducted Morris to Geigermann's office.

”Have a seat, Mr. Perlmutter,” he said; but the words fell on deaf ears, for as soon as he entered the room Morris descried the violin, which rested on top of Geigermann's desk. He pounced on it immediately, and turning it over in his hand he examined it with the minutest care. At length he discerned the label inside the ”eff” hole. It was curling away from the wood and appeared to be ready to drop off, so that it was an easy matter for Morris to impale it on his scarfpin. By dint of a little sc.r.a.ping he managed to draw one edge of it through the ”eff” hole and the next moment he was examining the faded printing. Then he turned the label over and in one corner he discovered an oval mark. Simultaneously the door opened and Geigermann entered.

Morris thrust the label into his pocket and turned to Geigermann with an amiable smile. Moreover, his pallor had given place to a p.r.o.nounced flush and he looked nearly five years younger than when he walked into the store just ten minutes before.

”h.e.l.lo, Felix!” he cried, holding out his hand. ”How's the boy?”

”Fine,” Felix said. ”Where's Abe?”

”He couldn't get here on account he is sitting up late again last night, and, of course, Felix, he is sick. But anyhow, Felix, I am glad he ain't coming.”