Morris gazed at his partner with raised eyebrows and then he too slapped his thigh.
"Alex Kronberg!" he exclaimed.
"That's the feller," Abe said. "There's a man, Max, which he is honest like the day and smart as a cutting machine. I know him since he was a baby, y'understand, and he's worked his way up till now he's got a fine business in Bridgetown. Only yesterday he says to me if he could get a live partner with a little capital, y'understand, he would soon got the biggest store in Bridgetown."
"What for a town is Bridgetown?" Max asked.
"Bridgetown is all right, Max," Abe said. "I give you my word, Max, they got so many factories there which they burn soft coal, on the brightest days you couldn't see the sun at all. It is an elegant place, Max."
"And what is more, Max," Morris added, "only last Saturday night, Alex tells me, the store was so crowded two saleswomen fainted."
"It sounds good," Max admitted. "Who did you say owns the store?"
"Alex Kronberg," Morris replied.
"Kronberg—Kronberg," Max repeated. "The name sounds familiar. When did you say he would be here?"
"He ought to be in here every minute," Abe said. Hardly had he spoken when the elevator door clanged and Alex himself entered.