"Ain't them fine words to hear from my own brother-in-law?" he said.
"Nobody compels you to stay here and listen to 'em, Rothschild," Abe
interrupted. "And, anyhow, Rothschild, you could make it more money if
instead you stayed here you would go downtown to Henry D. Feldman's
office and sue this here Rashkin in the courts for your commission. I
was telling Feldman all about it this morning, and he says you got it a
good case."
"Rothschild," Rashkin cried pleadingly, "where are you going?"
"You shouldn't talk to me," Rothschild answered. "Potash is right. I
brought this here Marks to you and he was ready and willing to purchase
at your terms, and so, therefore, you owe me a commission of four
hundred and sixty-five dollars."
The next moment he banged the door behind him and five minutes later he
was followed by B. Rashkin, who had filled that short space of time with
an exhaustive and profane denunciation of Potash & Perlmutter,
individually and as copartners.
Five days afterward Morris examined the list of real-estate conveyances
in the morning paper, after the fashion of the reformed race-track
gambler who occasionally consults the past performances of the day's
entries.
He handed the paper to Abe and pointed his finger to the following item:
264th St. 2044 East 37.6 x 100.10; Baruch Rashkin to the Royal
Piccadilly Realty Co. (mtg $33,000), $100.
"That's only a fake," Abe said. "I seen in the paper yesterday that
Rashkin incorporated the Royal Piccadilly Realty Company with his wife,
Goldie Rashkin, as president; and I guess he done it because he got
scared that Rothschild would get a judgment against him.
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