Feinstein pulled his hat over his eyes and, resting his cigar on the top of Rifkin's desk with the lighted end next to the wood, he drew Abe toward the rear of the office. "Leave that to me," he said mysteriously. "Of course, you couldn't expect to get them fixtures much under six hundred dollars at private sale, because it's got to be done under the direction of the court; but for fifty dollars I could undertake to let you in on 'em for, say, five hundred and seventy-five dollars. How's that?" Abe puffed at his cigar before replying. "I got to see it my partner first," he said. "That's all right, too," Feinstein rejoined; "but there was one dealer in here this morning already. As soon as the rest of 'em get on to this here failure they'll be buzzing around them fixtures like flies in a meat market, and maybe I won't be able to put it through for you at all." "I tell you what I'll do," Abe said. "I'll go right down to the store and I'll be back here at two o'clock." "You've got to hustle if you want them fixtures," he said. "I bet yer I got to hustle," Abe said, his eyes fixed on the marred surface of the desk, "for if you're going to smoke many more cigars around here them fixtures won't be no more good to nobody." "That don't harm 'em none," Feinstein replied. "A cabinetmaker could fix that up with a piece of putty and some shellac so as you wouldn't know it from new." "But if I buy it them fixtures," Abe concluded, as he turned toward the door, "I'd as lief have 'em without putty, if it's all the same to you." "Sure," Feinstein replied, and no sooner had Abe disappeared into the hall than he drew a morning paper from his pocket and settled down to his duties as keeper for the Federal receiver by selecting the most comfortable chair in the room and cocking up his feet against the side of Rifkin's desk. "Well, Abe," Morris cried as his partner entered the store half an hour later, "I give you right." "You give me right?" Abe repeated. "What d'ye mean?" "About them fixtures," Morris explained. "I give you right. Them fixtures is nothing but junk, and we got to get some new ones." "Sure we got to get some new ones, Mawruss," Abe agreed, "and I seen it the very thing what we want up at H. Rifkin's place." "H. Rifkin's place," Morris exclaimed. "That's what I said," Abe replied. "I got an idee, Mawruss, we should buy them fixtures what H. Rifkin got." "Is that so?" Morris retorted. "Well, why should we buy it fixtures what H. Rifkin throws out?" "He don't throw 'em out, Mawruss," Abe said. "He ain't got no more use for 'em, Mawruss. He busted up this morning." "You can't make me feel bad by telling me that, Abe," Morris rejoined. "A sucker what takes from us a good customer like Henry Feigenbaum should of busted up long since already. But that ain't the point, Abe. If we're going to get it fixtures, we don't want no second-hand articles."