"What d'ye want to know for?" Kapfer asked.
"Never mind what I want to know for!" Fischko retorted. "Who is he?"
"Well, if you must got to know," Kapfer said, "he's a feller by the name Julius Flixman."
"Fischko," Kapfer protested, "you ain't in no Canal Street coffee house here. This is a first-class hotel."
Fischko nodded distractedly.
"Sure, I know," he said. "Is there a place we could sit down here? I want to ask you something a few questions."
Kapfer led the way to the café and they sat down at a table near the door.
"Go ahead, Fischko," he said. "Polatkin and Scheikowitz will be here any minute."
"Well," Fischko began falteringly, "if this here feller is Julius Flixman, which he is coming from Bessarabia schon thirty years ago already, I don't want to do nothing in a hurry, Mr. Kapfer, on account I want to investigate first how things stand."