"I mean what happens since I am going away, Louis?" Sam continued.
"I didn't know you went away at all, Mr. Gembitz," the elevator boy replied.
"Dummer Esel!" Sam exclaimed. "Don't you know I was sick and I am going away from here schon three months ago pretty near?"
The elevator boy stopped the car at Gembitz Brothers' floor and spat deliberately.
"In the building is twenty tenants, Mr. Gembitz," he said, "and the way them fellers is sitting up all hours of the night, shikkering and gambling, if I would keep track which of 'em is sick and which ain't sick, Mr. Gembitz, I wouldn't got no time to run the elevator at all."
If the elevator boy's indifference made Sam waver in the belief that he was sorely missed downtown the appearance of his late showroom convinced him of his mistake. The yellow-pine fixtures had disappeared, and in place of his old walnut table there had been installed three rolltop desks of the latest Wall Street design.
At the largest of these sat Max, who wheeled about suddenly as his father entered.
"What are you doing down here?" he demanded savagely.
"Ain't I got no right in my own business at all?" Sam asked mildly.
"Sidney!" Max cried, and in response his youngest brother appeared.