Quickly the man fumbled at his vest pocket, to prove his case, but Cram did not want to be convinced. With a movement of his hand he stopped the man.
"It's all right. We know it all. It's all a fake, I tell you, Mr. Baer. They get certificates for fifty cents."
I looked up at the applicant. His face betrayed no sign that he heard what had just been said, and I thought it fortunate for the "red hot Socialist."
Cram put his application in a pigeon-hole and told the man to go home. The man did not move, but fixed questioning eyes on Cram's lips, seeking to understand.
"Go home," the other yelled. He showed no sign of understanding except that he knew he was addressed. "Ha?" he queried.
"Go to hell," Cram answered.
I wrote upon a piece of paper: "Go home, the gentleman says."
"I have no home," he quickly answered.
"You hear?" I turned to Cram.