Aaron Kronberg's pallor gave way to a flood of crimson, and for a moment he choked incoherently as he gazed at Uncle Mosha in amazement.
"Why, that feller Perlmutter is a friend of Alex," he gasped at length.
"Sure, I know," Uncle Mosha replied; "but even if he is a friend of Alex his money ain't counterfeit."
"But he'd rob you of your shirt, Uncle Mosha," Aaron exclaimed. "He's a dangerous feller."
"I'm used to dangerous fellers, Aaron," Uncle Mosha answered calmly. "I told you before, I dropped ten thousand in Wall Street."
"Yes; and if you would sold this here house, Uncle Mosha, you would drop ten thousand more."
"Not ten thousand, Aaron. I only got eight thousand equity in the house."
Again Aaron stared at his uncle.
"Do you mean to told me you only got eight thousand dollars in the world?" he groaned.
"The world is a pretty big place, Aaron," Uncle Mosha said; "but I wouldn't lie to you anyhow. Eight thousand is the figure."