"I guess he found it out," he said to himself as he descended the stairs and made for the show-room. When he entered he found Morris seated in a chair with the first edition of an evening paper clutched in his hand.
"What's the matter, Mawruss?" Abe said.
Morris gulped once or twice and made a feeble attempt to brandish the paper.
"Matter?" he croaked. "Nothing's the matter. Only, we are out twenty-five hundred dollars. That's all."
"No, we ain't, Mawruss," Abe protested. "What we are out in one way we make in another."
Morris sought to control himself, but his pent-up emotions gave themselves vent.
"We do, hey?" he roared. "Well, maybe you think because I took your fool advice this oncet that I'll do it again?"
He grew red in the face.
"Gambler!" he yelled. "Fool! You shed my blood! What? You want to ruin me! Hey?"
Abe had expected a tirade, but nothing half as violent as this.