"There's a great deal to be explained," Feldman continued. "He is unable to convey good title to the property _non constat_ he received a deed of it in 1890." "I never heard tell of the feller at all," Uncle Mosha exclaimed. "I am the only one which received a deed of the property." Feldman gazed at Uncle Mosha for one dazed moment and then proceeded. "The last owner in Mr. Kronberg's claim of title--I mean his immediate vendor--was the only surviving collateral of an intestate," he said. "That's where you make a big mistake," Uncle Mosha interrupted. "The feller which I bought the house from was a salesman for a shirt concern." Feldman glared at Uncle Mosha and was about to crush him with a flood of law Latin when the door opened. "You got to excuse me for butting in, Mr. Feldman," said a harsh voice which presently was seen to issue from the person of Morris Perlmutter, "but me and my partner is got to get back to the store and Max and his partner is also busy to-day." "I'll be with you in just one moment, Mr. Perlmutter," Feldman replied. "You says that an hour ago," Morris grumbled as he closed the door behind him. "Now, Mr. Kronberg," Feldman continued, "I'd like to elucidate this situation for you as succinctly as possible." "Do that afterward, if you got to do it," Uncle Mosha broke in; "but just now tell me what the trouble is." "What's the use talking to a mutt that don't understand the English language at all?" Feldman cried. "Listen here to me. You bought your house from a fellow called Nathan Baum." "Sure, I did," Uncle Mosha said. "You remember him, Sammet? He went to work and got killed in a railroad accident ten years ago already." "Don't interrupt," Feldman cried. "Nathan Baum was the brother of Max Baum, a former owner of the house. Max Baum died while he owned the house and he left no will, and Nathan Baum claimed the house as the only heir of Max Baum." "That's right," Mosha agreed. "Nathan Baum was the only relative in the world which Max Baum got it. He had a sister, but she died before Max." "Was Max Baum's sister ever married?" Mr. Jones asked in funereal accents. "Sure she was married," Mosha answered. "She was married to Sam Gershon. He works for years by Richter as a cutter. Sam is dead too." "Did they ever have any children?" Mr. Jones inquired. "One boy they had," Uncle Mosha said. "Shall I ever forget it? What a beautiful boy that was, Mr. Feldman--a regular picture! Mrs. Gershon thinks a whole lot of that boy, too, I bet yer." "Never mind the trimmings, Kronberg," Feldman broke in. "Is the boy alive?" "That's what we're anxious to know," Mr. Jones interrupted. "My company had ascertained that there was one son, but we couldn't find out if he were dead or alive." "If the boy was alive Mrs. Gershon would be alive too," Mosha said. "Mrs. Gershon died on account of that boy. What a lovely boy that was! I can see him now--the way he looked. He had eyes black like coal, and a----"