Felix shook his head.
"I got a few words to say to Abe, Mawruss," he replied. "Is he in now?"
Morris smiled amiably, although he was convinced that Felix's visit boded a cancellation of the 4022's.
"He ain't in now," he answered, "but if you wait a few minutes he'll be right back."
He returned hastily to the office, for he knew that if Abe found them in conversation on his return he would impute the cancellation of the order to something Morris had said. Thus Felix was left alone in the showroom, save for Cesar Kovalenko, who plied a feather duster industriously among the sample-racks. As he worked, Cesar whistled a Russian melody, half sad, half cheerful, and Felix paused midway in the lighting of his cigar. It was the opening theme in the second movement of Tschaikovsky's Fourth Symphony; and Cesar's rendition of it was not only true to pitch but he managed to introduce certain nuances that to Felix proclaimed the born musician.
"What's that you are whistling?" he inquired; and Cesar smiled.
"Tschaikovsky's Fourt' Symphony," he replied, and then he reached around to his hip-pocket. "See; I am got music."
He handed a paper-covered miniature score to Geigermann, who opened it at random.
"Ha!" Felix exclaimed as his eye lit on a familiar phrase in the last movement. He hummed it over and Cesar joined him in a clear, musical barytone. They were thus engaged when a tall, broad-shouldered individual entered the showroom.
"Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen," he said, "but is the boss in?"