He opened the middle compartment and pulled out a roll of bills.
"You see, Abe," he said, counting out the money, "here it is: one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and—"
Here Mr. Linkheimer paused and examined the last bill carefully, for instead of a hundred-dollar bill it was only a ten-dollar bill.
"Well, what d'ye think of that dirty thief?" he cried at last. "That Schenkmann has taken a hundred-dollar bill out of there."
"What?" Abe exclaimed.
"Just as sure as you are sitting there," Linkheimer went on excitedly. "That feller Schenkmann has pinched a hundred-dollar bill on me."
Here his academic English completely forsook him and he continued in the vernacular of the lower East Side.
"Always up to now I have kept the safe locked on that feller, and the very first time I get careless he goes to work and does me for a hundred dollars yet."
"But," Abe protested, "you might of made a mistake, ain't it? If the feller took it a hundred dollars, why don't he turn around and ganver the other four hundred? Ain't it? The ten dollars also he might of took it. What?"
"A ganef you couldn't tell what he would do at all," Linkheimer rejoined, and Abe rose to his feet.