"Why, you wouldn't charge these gentlemen nothing," Kleebaum said with a violent wink. "They're friends of mine."
"I know they was friends of yours," the chauffeur replied, "and that's why I made it ten dollars. Anyone else I'd say twenty."
For almost half an hour Abe and Morris haggled with the chauffeur. They were vigorously supported by Kleebaum, who punctuated his scathing condemnation of the chauffeur's greed with a series of surreptitious
winks which encouraged the latter to remain firm in his demand. Finally Morris peeled off two five-dollar bills and an hour later the Appalachian runabout was ignominiously hauled into a Jamaica garage.
The chauffeur alighted from his car and drew the proprietor of the garage aside into his private office.
"Billy," he said in a hoarse whisper, "this here baby carriage is got the oldest brand of dry battery ignition and one of the wires has come loose from the binding screw. It'll take about a minute and a half to fix."
The proprietor nodded and passed over a dollar bill. Then he sprang out onto the floor of the garage.
"Ryan," he bellowed to his foreman, "get the big jack, and tell Schwartz to start up the motor lathe."
Then he turned to Abe and Mawruss.
"This here'll be a two hours' job, gents," he said, "and I advise you to get your supper at the hotel acrosst the street."