"They wouldn't bring nothing at the receiver's sale, anyhow," Feinstein
replied, "even though they are pretty near new."
"They must have cost him a pretty big sum, ain't it?" Abe said.
"They didn't cost him a cent," Feinstein answered, "because he ain't
paid a cent for 'em. Flaum & Bingler sold 'em to him, and they're one of
the petitioning creditors. Twenty-one hundred dollars they got stung
for, and they ain't got no chattel mortgage nor nothing. Look at them
racks there and all them mirrors and tables! Good enough for a saloon.
I bet yer them green baize doors, what he put inside the regular door,
is worth pretty near a hundred dollars."
Abe nodded again.
"And I bet the whole shooting-match don't fetch five hundred dollars at
the receiver's sale," Feinstein said.
"Why, I'd give that much for it myself," Abe cried.
Feinstein puffed away at his cigar for a minute.
"Do you honestly mean you'd like to buy them fixtures?" he said at last.
"Sure I'd like to buy them," Abe replied. "When is the receiver's sale
going to be?"
"Next week, right after the order of adjudication is signed. But that
won't do you no good. The dealers would bid 'em up on you, and you
wouldn't stand no show at all. What you want to do is to buy 'em from
the receiver at private sale."
"So?" Abe commented. "Well, how would I go about that?"
Feinstein pulled his hat over his eyes and, resting his cigar on the top
of Rifkin's desk with the lighted end next to the wood, he drew Abe
toward the rear of the office.
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