"There's a big light gallery—twice the size of your present workrooms."
Ersten's cheeks suddenly puffed and his forehead purpled, while every hair on his head and face stuck straight out.
"My workroom is good enough!" he exploded. "I told it to Schnitt!"
"Is Schnitt your coat cutter?" asked Johnny, remembering what Constance and Close had said.
Ersten glowered at him.
"He was. Thirty-seven years he worked with me; then he tried to run my business. He is gone. Let him go!"
"He objected to the light in the workroom, didn't he?" went on the cross-examiner, carefully piecing the situation together bit by bit.
"He could see for thirty-seven years, till everybody talks about moving; then he goes crazy," blurted Ersten.
"Won't you look at this place?" he was urged. "Let me show it to you to-morrow."
"I stay where I am," sullenly declared Ersten, still angry. "We miss my train."