"That's all right, Kleiman," Morris said as the train drew into
Ninety-sixth Street. "You could easy steal somebody else from another
concern." Kleiman glared at Morris and was about to utter a particularly
incisive retort when the train stopped.

"I got to change here," he announced; "but when I see you again,
Perlmutter, I would tell you what you are."

"I don't got to tell you what you are, Kleiman," Morris concluded as he
opened his evening paper. "You know only too well."

"_Rosher!_" Kleiman hissed as he hurled himself into the mob of
passengers that blocked the exit.

Morris nodded sardonically and commenced to read his paper. He desisted
immediately, however, when his eye fell upon a cut accompanying Felix
Geigermann's display advertisement. It was a beaded marquisette costume,
made in obvious imitation of one of Potash & Perlmutter's leaders; and
the retail price quoted by Geigermann was precisely one dollar less than
Potash & Perlmutter's lowest wholesale figure.

"That's some of Harkavy's work," Morris muttered; and for the remainder
of the journey he was once more plunged in the gloomiest cogitation.
Almost automatically he alighted at the Brooklyn Bridge and boarded a
Madison Street Car; and it was not until the jolting, old-fashioned
vehicle had nearly reached its eastern terminus that he discerned the
house number furnished to him by Steuermann. He hurried to the rear
platform and jumped to the street, where he collided violently with a
short, bearded person.