Elkan took a paper from the desk in front of Dishkes and passed it to Paul, who drew from his waistcoat pocket an opulent gold-mounted fountain pen. Then he walked over to Leon Sammet and handed him the pen and the agreement.
"Schreib, Sammet," he said, "and don't make no more fuss about it."
A moment later Sammet appended a shaky signature to the agreement and returned it, with the pen, to Paul.
A quarter of an hour later Jacob Paul sat in Elkan's office and smoked one of Polatkin, Scheikowitz & Company's best cigars.
"Now I put it up to you, Lubliner," he said: "them Jacobean chairs are pretty high at fifty dollars, but I want 'em, and I'm willing to give you sixty for 'em."
Elkan smiled and made a wide gesture with both hands.
"My dear Mr. Paul," he said, "after what you done to-day for Dishkes I'll make you a present of 'em—free for nothing."
"No, you won't do no such thing," Paul declared; "because I'm going to sell 'em again and at a profit, as I may as well tell you."
"My worries what you are going to do with 'em!" Elkan declared. "But one thing I ain't going to do, Mr. Paul—I ain't going to make no profit on you; so go ahead and take the chairs at what I paid for 'em—and that's the best I could do for you."
It required no further persuasion for Jacob Paul to draw a fifty-dollar check to Elkan's order; and as he rose to leave Elkan pressed his hand warmly.