We walked along Seventh for a block or so until we came to a second-hand store with a fat little Jew sitting, like the proverbial spider, in the doorway. The moment he saw us coming he jumped to his feet and walked us into his parlor, oozing what was meant for bluff good-fellowship at every pore. I told him that we had decided to take a job together with a construction gang, and we wanted clothes that would wear better than those we had on. I offered to swap him the clothes we had for the kind we wanted. And there I made a mistake. “Vant ta change close?” he cried. “Get into the back room there, quick. I’ll take care of ye fine.” We moved back to the rear of the shop and the Jew hustled us into a filthy little room in which he evidently both slept and ate his meals. A moment later he joined us with several old suits of rough-looking workmen’s clothes and some worn, heavy boots—also a couple of rough army shirts. “There you are, my friendths. Change quickly. You’re in safe hands.” Larry and I picked out a couple of suits and changed into them and the army shirts very rapidly, paying very little attention to our Jewish friend. The boots were harder, but we presently found a couple of pairs that fitted us fairly well. Then we shifted our few personal belongings and our money to our new clothes and tossed the old ones we had taken off to the Jew. “There you are, Isaac,” said Larry. “There’s the best two suits you ever had in your shop and you’re getting ’em for nothing.” The Jew rubbed his hands together. “Oh, no, my friends, you make a joke,” said he. “Those good suits are twenty-fife tollars apiece, if you leave the old clothes you take off. Oddervise they are thirty-five tollars each.” He paused, smiling. “The boots and shirts I gif you for only tventy tollars!” We turned and stared at him. Instantly he began to retreat toward the door, still smiling uncertainly. “You pay me or I call the bolice!” he cried. “I don’t sell no disguises fer nodding.” That little Jew never knew what struck him. Larry leaped in the air and pounced on him as a cat pounces on a mouse. The little man had time for only a frightened gasp before he was pinned to the floor, his eyes starting from his head as Larry throttled him. “Ye wud, wud ye, ye little Judas,” Larry cried, shaking him. “I’ve a mind to kill ye this minute and set fire to your damned shack. Shall I kill him, sor?” he asked, twisting his head to wink at me. I hesitated. “Perhaps you’d better,” I said. “No, wait a minute. Maybe he’ll be useful to us. We can come back and kill him later. Let him up, but hold on to him.” Larry lifted the little man to his feet and he instantly fell on his knees again. “I vas only choking, sir. The clothes are for noddings. Only let me go, and go away. I’ll say nodding to no one that you came here.”