"Oh, nothing," the professor replied; "only my brother Aaron sold to a feller by the name Potash the other day a fiddle which I myself bought from old Hubai a couple years ago for fifteen dollars yet; and if that's the one you are talking about, Emil, you should quick go up to the theayter and forget about it. Because, Emil, if that fiddle is an Amati, you are a Kubelik and I am a Kreisler." "Sure, I know, Louis," Emil agreed; "but just the same I got to go up there to make the ten, so if you would do me the favour and _spiel_ for me till half-past nine you could get anyhow three dollars of it." "I am willing," the professor said; and ten minutes later he was on his way up to the Palace Theatre of Varieties. It was precisely half-past nine, while a tabloid drama in progress on the stage rendered the presence of the orchestra unnecessary, that Emil Pilz returned. "_Nu_ Emil," Louis said as they stood in the corridor leading to the stage entrance, "did you seen the Amati?" He grinned in humorous anticipation of Emil's answer. "Yes, I did seen it," Emil replied, "and it's a very elegant, grand model." "Sure," the professor said; "made in Bavaria with an ax." "Don't you fool yourself, Louis," Emil retorted. "That's an elegant instrument from Nicolo Amati's best period. If it's worth a cent it's worth three thousand dollars." "_Schmooes_, Emil!" Louis cried. "What are you trying to do?--kid me?" "What d'ye mean, kid you?" Emil asked. "I should never stir from this spot, Louis, if that ain't an Amati. It's got a tone like gold, Louis." For a brief interval Louis stared at his informant. "Do you mean to told me, Emil, that that fiddle is a real, genu-ine Amati?" "Listen here to me, Louis," Emil declared; "if I wouldn't be sure that it was genu-ine why should I got such a heart that I would act that way to that feller Potash? When--so sure as you are standing there, Louis--when I told him it was a genu-ine Amati he pretty near got a fit already; and as for his partner by the name Perlmutter, he hollered so I thought he was going to spit blood already." Louis licked his dry lips before making any reply. "So, then, I am paying fifteen dollars for a fiddle which it is a genu-ine Amati," he said, "and that brother of mine which he ain't got no more sense as a lunatic lets it go for a song already." "Well, I couldn't stop to talk to you now, Louis," Emil said. "I must got to get on the job. I am going to be to-morrow morning, ten o'clock, at this here Potash & Perlmutter's, and if you want to you could meet me there with old man Hubai." "Old man Hubai!" Louis cried. "What's he got to do with it?" "He's got a whole lot to do with it, Louis," Emil said. "A feller like him sells you a three-thousand-dollar violin for fifteen dollars which he ain't got a penny in the world, y'understand, and I should stand by and see him get done!" Professor Wcelak hung his head and blushed.