"What's this?" Elkan demanded.
"That's the change from your fifty dollars," Ringentaub replied; "because, so help me, Mr. Lubliner, there is first-class material in them chairs and the feller that makes 'em for me is a highgrade cabinetmaker. Then you got to reckon it stands me in a couple of dollars also to get 'em fixed up antique, y'understand; so, if you get them chairs for twenty dollars you are buying a bargain, Mr. Lubliner."
"Why, what d'ye mean?" Elkan cried. "Ain't them chairs gen-wine Jacobean chairs?"
"Not by a whole lot they ain't," Ringentaub declared fervently.
"But Mr. Paul thinks they are!" Elkan exclaimed.
"Sure, I know," Ringentaub answered; "and that shows what a lot a collector knows about such things. Paul is a credit man for the Hamsuckett Mills, Mr. Lubliner; but he collects old furniture on the side."
For a moment Elkan gazed open-mouthed at the antiquarian and a great light began to break in on him.
"So-o-o!" he cried. "That's what you mean by a collector!"
Ringentaub nodded.
"And furthermore, Mr. Lubliner, when collectors knows more about antiques as dealers does, Mr. Lubliner," he said with his hand on the doorknob, "I'll go into the woollen piece-goods business too—which you could take it from me, Mr. Lubliner, it wouldn't be soon, by a hundred years even."