While he made this startling declaration he gazed steadily at Finkman, who was moving his head in a slow and skeptic nodding, as one who says: "Yow! Ich glaub's."
"Five hundred dollars it costs us only to-day yet, Mr. Eschenbach," Birsky went on, clearing his throat pompously; "but certainly, Mr. Eschenbach, in the end it pays us."
"How do you make that out?" Finkman demanded gruffly.
"Why, the money remains on deposit with a bank," Birsky explained, "and every week for five weeks we deduct from the operators' wages also one dollar a week, which we put with the five hundred we are giving."
Finkman continued to nod more briskly in a manner that proclaimed: "I see the whole thing now."
"So that at the end of five weeks," Birsky went on, "every operator is got coming to him ten dollars."
Finkman snorted cynically.
"Coming to him!" he said with satirical emphasis.
"Coming to him," Birsky retorted, "that's what I said, Finkman; and the whole idee is very fine for us as well as for them."
"I should say so," Finkman commented; "because at the end of five weeks you got in bank a thousand dollars which you ain't paying no interest on to nobody."