"What d'ye mean?" Kapfer demanded.
"Why, I mean this," Fischko cried: "If this here Flixman is well fixed, Kapfer, I want to know it, on account Miss Yetta Silbermacher is from Flixman's sister a daughter, understand me!"
Kapfer lit a cigar deliberately before replying. He was thinking hard.
"Do you mean to tell me," he said at last, "that this here Miss Silbermacher is Julius Flixman's a niece?"
"That's what I said," Fischko replied. "He comes here from Bessarabia thirty years ago already and from that day to this I never heard a word about him—Miss Silbermacher neither."
"Ain't the rest of his family heard from him?" Kapfer asked guardedly.
"There ain't no rest of his family," Fischko said. "Mrs. Silbermacher was his only sister, and she's dead over ten years since."
Kapfer nodded and drew reflectively on his cigar.
"Well, Fischko," he said finally, "I wouldn't let Flixman worry me none. He's practically a Schnorrer; he was in here just now on account he hears I am going to marry a rich girl and touches me for some money on the head of it. I guess you noticed that he looks pretty shabby—ain't it?"
"And sick too," Fischko added, just as a bellboy came into the café.