"Sit down, Hymie. Glad to see you, Mr. Potash," Max said, stroking a small gray mustache with a five-carat diamond ring. "What can I do for _you_?" "I got some goods belonging to Mr. Potash what a fellow called Lowenstein in Galveston, Texas, shipped me," said Hymie, "and Mr. Potash wants to get 'em back." "Replevin, hey?" Max said. "That's a little out of my line, but I guess I can fix you up." He rang for a stenographer. "Take this down," he said to her, and turned to Abe Potash. "Now, tell us the facts." Abe recounted the tale Mr. Lowenstein had related to Morris Perlmutter, by which Lowenstein made it appear that he was completely out of stock. Next, Hyman Margolius produced Siegmund Lowenstein's letter which declared that Lowenstein was disposing of the Empire cloaks because he was overstocked. "S'enough," Max declared. "Tell, Mr. Weinschenck to work it up into an affidavit," he continued to the stenographer, "and bring us in a jurat." A moment later she returned with a sheet of legal cap, on the top of which was typewritten: "Sworn to before me this first day of April, 1904." "Sign opposite the brace," said Max, pushing the paper at Abe, and Abe scrawled his name where indicated. "Now, hold up your right hand," said Max, and Abe obeyed. "Do you solemnly swear that the affidavit subscribed by you is true?" Max went on. "What affidavit?" Abe asked. "Why, the one Weinschenck is going to draw when he comes back from lunch, of course," Max replied. "Sure it's true," said Abe. "All right," Max concluded briskly. "Now give me a check for fifty dollars for my fees, five dollars for a surety company bond, and five dollars sheriff's fees, and I'll get out a replevin order on the strength of that affidavit in half an hour, and have a deputy around to the store at three o'clock to transfer the goods from Hymie to you." "Sixty dollars is pretty high for a little thing like that, ain't it, Max?" said Hymie. "High?" Max cried indignantly. "High? Why, if you wasn't a lodge brother of mine, Hymie, I wouldn't have stirred a hand for less than a hundred." Thus rebuked, Abe paid over the sixty dollars, and Hymie and he went back to the store. Precisely at three a deputy sheriff entered the front door and flashed a gold badge as big as a dinner-plate. His stay was brief, and in five minutes he had relieved Abe of all his spare cigars and departed, leaving only a certified copy of the replevin order and a strong smell of whisky to signalize the transfer of the Empire gowns from Hymie to Abe. Hardly had he banged the door behind him when a messenger boy entered and handed a telegram to Abe. "Ain't shipped no goods but the 4022's," it read. "Have wired Lowenstein to return the 4022s. MORRIS." "Fine! Fine!" Abe exclaimed. He tipped the boy a dime and was about to acquaint Hyman with the good news, when another messenger boy entered and delivered a second telegram to Abe. It read as follows: