"
"I ain't worrying, Mawruss," Abe replied. "He ain't going to let us
keep them diamonds for a thousand dollars, Mawruss. They're worth a
whole lot more as that, Mawruss."
"I don't know how much they're worth, Abe," Morris grunted, putting on
his hat, "but one thing I do know; I'm going across the street to get a
shave; and then I'm going right down to Sig Pollak on Maiden Lane, Abe,
and I'll find out just how much they are worth."
A moment later he descended the basement steps into the barber-shop
under Wasserbauer's Cafe and Restaurant.
"Hallo, Mawruss," a voice cried from the proprietor's chair. "Ain't it a
hot weather?"
It was Sam Feder, vice-president of the Kosciusko Bank, who spoke. He
was midway in the divided enjoyment of a shampoo and a large black
cigar, while an electric fan oscillated over his head.
"I bet yer it's hot, Mr. Feder," Morris agreed, taking off his coat.
"Why don't you take your vest off, too, Mawruss?" Sam Feder suggested.
"That's a good idee," Morris replied, peeling off his waistcoat. He hung
it next to his coat and relapsed with a sigh into the nearest vacant
chair.
"Just once around, Phil," he said to the barber, and closed his eyes for
a short nap.
When he woke up ten minutes later Phil was spraying him with witch-hazel
while the proprietor stood idly in front of the mirror and curled his
flowing black mustache.
"Don't take it so particular, Phil," Morris enjoined.
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