“Oh, well, that’s different,” said Arkush. “What will you give?”
“I’ll give twenty-five cents for each month that you go over—is it enough?”
“Here, Yakub,” cried Arkush. “Run back from January 16th, and see if you find the name of Joseph White again.”
Yakub carried the ledger to a desk hard by, and began his task.
“Do you smoke?” Merivale asked the old man, offering him a cigar. Presently the air became blue with aromatic vapor.
“Here you are!” called Yakub from his stool. He proceeded to read aloud, “‘December 7th—one onyx seal ring—amount, one dollar and a quarter—to Joseph White—residence, Leonard street—ticket-number, 15,672. Same date—one ornamented wooden box—amount, fifteen cents—to Joseph White—residence, as above—ticket-number, 15,67.’.rdquo;
“Keep still,” said Merivale in an aside, as he saw my lips open. “I’ll do the talking.—I’m infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Arkush. Now, if I may trespass just a little further upon your indulgence, can you tell me whether you still have either of those articles in stock? If so, I should be glad to see them—with a view to purchasing, of course.”
“Look, Yakub,” said Arkush. “Was those goods redeemed?”
Yakub returned the ledger to the shelf whence he had taken it, and produced another book of similar proportions in its stead. Presently he said, “Number 15,672, sold August 20, 18—; Number 15,673—see profit and loss.”
“Number 15,672 was the ring, was it not?” asked Merivale. “Number 15,673 is referred to the account of profit and loss—will you kindly turn to it under that head, Mr. Yakub?”