"Why should Moe Griesman want to buy from us Sam Green's account?" Morris muttered to himself; and then a wave of recollection came over him. Obviously it was Moe Griesman who had bought out Sam's competitors and this caused Sam's bank to shut down on him. Now Moe Griesman was attempting to buy up Sam's liabilities and close him up, so that there might be no competitor to Moe's new business in Cyprus. At length the humour of the situation appealed to Morris and he grinned vacuously at his partner. "_Nu_," Abe growled; "what are you laughing at?" "Nothing much, Abe," Morris replied. "I was only thinking--that's all, Abe. I was thinking to myself, Abe, what a joke it would be, supposing, for instance, Sam's check should come back N. G." * * * * * When Sam Green entered the smoker of the seven-thirty train from Syracuse to Cyprus, the following morning, a well-dressed man of sixty followed him down the aisle and sat down in the same seat with him. "Have a cigar?" the stranger said. "Much obliged," Sam replied as he took it. "If it is just the same to you I would smoke it after dinner." "Sure!" the stranger rejoined, handing him another; "smoke that one after dinner and smoke this one now." Sam grinned and after they had lit up he ventured the observation that it was fine weather. "_Aber_ it should be colder," he concluded, "for heavyweights." "Are you in the clothing business?" the stranger asked. "I got a sort of a store," Sam replied; "clothing and cloaks, and suits also. A dry-goods store in Cyprus." "In Cyprus?" Sam's seatmate cried. "You don't tell me? I'm going down to Cyprus too." "My fall buying is through," Sam said. "I'm not selling goods this trip," the stranger replied. "I'm on a vacation." "A vacation!" Sam murmured. "In Cyprus! That's a _medeena_ for a vacation." "There are worse places than Cyprus, my friend," said Sam's new-found acquaintance; and thereat began a conversation that lasted until the train finally drew into Cyprus. "Would you mind telling me what is your name, please?" Sam asked as they prepared to leave the car. "Certainly," the stranger said, handing his card to Sam. "Kirschner!" Sam exclaimed, looking at the card. "Kirschner, _von unsere Leute_?" "Sure!" Max Kirschner replied. "Did your father once run a store under the opera house here?" "That's right." "And after he died the widder sells out to a man by the name Marcus Senft?" "The same one," Max replied. "Why do you ask?" "Because I bought out that feller, Marcus Senft," Sam replied, "and I got on my books yet debts which your mother sold to Senft for twenty-five cents on the dollar--and he sold to me for ten cents." "I'll bet I know who owes 'em, too," Max commented. "You could look 'em over if you want to," Sam said as they started to walk down the hilly lane from the depot to the main street. "I will after I've washed up at the hotel," Max answered.