"I would like to speak a few words something to a waiter which is working for you, by the name Louis Berkfield," the voice continued.
Instantly Trinkmann's mind reverted to Maikafer's parting words.
"Who is it wants to talk with him?" he asked.
"It don't make no difference," said the voice, "because he wouldn't recognize my name at all."
"No?" Trinkmann retorted. "Well, maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't, Mr. Ringentaub; but people which they got the gall to ring up my waiters and steal 'em away from me in business hours yet, Mr. Ringentaub, all I could say is that it ain't surprising they busted up in Brownsville. Furthermore, Mr. Ringentaub, if you think you could hire one of them stores acrosst the street and open up a gemütlicher place with Louis for a waiter, y'understand, go ahead and try, but you couldn't do it over my 'phone."
He hung up the receiver so forcibly that the impact threw down eight boxes of the finest cigars.
"Louis," he shouted, and in response Louis approached from the back of the restaurant.
"I am here, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis said, with a slight tremor in his tones.
"Say, lookyhere, Louis," Trinkmann continued, "to-morrow morning first thing you should ring up Greenberg & Company and tell 'em to call and fetch away them eight boxes cigars. What, do them people think I would be a sucker all my life? They stock me up mit cigars till I couldn't move around at all."
"But, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis protested, "this afternoon three o'clock you are telling me——"