"More as you would lend me, Potash," he said. "So what's the use talking about it?"
"Well, I was going to say," Abe continued, "if it was something what you might call within reason, Moe, I might advance it if——"
"If what?" Moe inquired.
"If you would tell me the insides of just how you got it that order from Prosnauer."
Mozart gave a deprecatory wave of his right hand.
"You don't got to bribe me to tell you that, Potash," he said, "because I ain't got no concern in that order no longer. I give up my commission there to a feller by the name Ignatz Kresnick."
"A white-faced feller with a big red mustache?" Abe asked.
"That's him," Mozart replied. "The luck that feller Kresnick got it is something you wouldn't believe at all. He could fall down a sewer manhole and come up in a dress suit and a clean shave already. He cleans me out last night two hundred dollars and the commission on that Prosnauer order."
"But you didn't get that order in the first place, Moe," Abe said. "Marks Pasinsky got the order."
"Sure, I know," Mozart replied, "but he got set back a couple of four hundred hands last Tuesday