Abe grew somewhat abashed at this disclosure. He looked at Linkheimer and then at Morris, but before he could think of something to say the elevator door opened and Jake stepped out. It was perhaps the first time in all their acquaintance with Jake that Abe and Morris had seen him with his face washed. Moreover, a clean collar served further to conceal his identity, and at first Abe did not recognize his former shipping clerk. "Hallo, Mr. Potash!" Jake said. "I'll be with you in one moment, Mister--er," Abe began. "Just take a--why, that's Jake, ain't it?" Here he saw a chance for a conversational diversion and he jumped excitedly to his feet. "What's the matter, Jake?" he asked. "You want your old job back?" "It don't go so quick as all that, Mr. Potash," Jake answered. "I got a good business, Mr. Potash. I carry a fine line of cigars, candy, and stationery, and already I got an offer of twenty-five dollars more as I paid for the business. But I wouldn't take it. Why should I? I took in a lot money yesterday, and only this morning, Mr. Potash, a feller comes in my place and--why, there's the feller now!" "Feller! What d'ye mean--feller?" Abe cried indignantly. "That ain't no feller. That's Mr. Max Linkheimer." "Sure, I know!" Jake explained. "He's the feller I mean. Half an hour ago I was in his place, and they says there he comes up here. You was in _mein_ store this morning, Mr. Linkheimer, ain't that right, and you bought from me a package of all-tobacco cigarettes?" "_Nu, nu_, Jake," Morris broke in. "Make an end. You are interrupting us here." Jake drew back his coat and clumsily unfastened a large safety pin which sealed the opening of his upper right-hand waistcoat pocket. Then he dug down with his thumb and finger and produced a small yellow wad about the size of a postage stamp. This he proceeded to unfold until it took on the appearance of a hundred-dollar bill. "He gives me this here," Jake announced, "and I give him the change for a ten-dollar bill. So this here is a hundred-dollar bill, ain't it, and it don't belong to me, which I come downtown I should give it him back again. What isn't mine I don't want at all." This was perhaps the longest speech that Jake had ever made, and he paused to lick his dry lips for the peroration. "And so," he concluded, handing the bill to Linkheimer, "here it is, and--and nine dollars and ninety cents, please." Linkheimer grabbed the bill automatically and gazed at the figures on it with bulging eyes. "Why," Abe gasped, "why, Linkheimer, you had four one-hundred-dollar bills and a ten-dollar bill in the safe this morning. Ain't it?" Linkheimer nodded. Once more he broke into a copious perspiration, as he handed a ten-dollar bill to Jake. "And so," Abe went on, "and so you must of took a hundred-dollar bill out of the safe last night, instead of a ten-dollar bill. Ain't it?" Linkheimer nodded again.