“Yeh quit us cold when things was on the fritz. Now, yeh gotta pay. If you wasn’t nothing but a wop skunk yeh’d stand in with us. The way you’re fixed would help us all. But now yeh makin’ money and yeh scared o’ yeh shadow!–––”
Bromberg cut in: “And you’ll be outside when the band starts playing. Look what’s doing all over the world! Every country is starting something! You watch Berlin and Rosa Luxemburg and her bunch. Keep your eye peeled, Angy, and see what we and the I. W. W. start in every city of the country!”
Kastner, having satisfied himself that the bills had not been marked, and pocketed his jeweller’s glass, pushed back his lank blond hair.
“Yess,” he said in his icy, incisive voice, “yoost vatch out already! Dot crimson tide it iss rising the vorld all ofer! It shall drown effery aristocrat, effery bourgeois, effery intellectual. It shall be but a red flood ofer all the vorld vere noddings shall live only our peoble off the proletariat!”
“And where the hell will you be then, Angelo?” 290 sneered Bromberg. “By God, we won’t have to ask you for our share of your money then!”
Again Sondheim leaned over him and wagged his nicotine-dyed finger:
“You get the rest of our money! Understand? And you get them women out!––or I tell you we’ll blow you and your joint to Hoboken! Get that?”
“I have understood,” said Puma quietly; but his heavy face was a muddy red now, and he choked a little when he spoke.
“Give us a date and stick to it,” added Bromberg. “Set it yourself. And after that we won’t bother to do any more jawin’. We’ll just attend to business––your business, Puma!”
After a long silence, Puma said calmly: “How much you want?”