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As they sat at their game she was at the zither-table, dreamily playing May Breezes as she watched Otto and thought how much more comfortable she was in his strong, loyal love than in the unnatural strain of Mr. Feuerstein's ecstasies. "'Work and love and home," she murmured, in time to her music. "Yes, father is right. They ARE the best."
Travis reported to Loeb half an hour later, when Feuerstein's statement had been typewritten. Loeb read the statement through twice with great care. "Most complete, Mr. Travis," was his comment. "You've done a good piece of work." He sat silent, drumming noiselessly on the table with his stumpy, hairy, fat fingers. At last he began: "It ought to be worth at least twenty thousand.
"It is a great condescension for me. Working people ugh!" As he strolled up town he was spending in fancy the income from at least two, perhaps all three, flat-houses "The shop's enough for the old people and that dumb ass of a brother. I'll elevate the family. Yes, I think I'll run away with Hilda to-morrow that's the safest plan." Otto had guessed close to the truth about Feuerstein's affairs.
"I want revenge." "Of course cash. Well, Ganser's a rich man. I should say he'd give up a good deal to get rid of YOU." Loeb gave that mirthless and mirth-strangling smile as he accented the "you." "He's got to give up!" said Feuerstein fiercely. "Slowly! Slowly!" Loeb leaned forward and looked into Feuerstein's face. "You mustn't forget."
I sent the maid for a pitcher of beer." "I want to ask about Mr. Feuerstein," replied Sophie. The girl's pert, prematurely-wrinkled face took on a quizzical smile. "Oh!" she said. "You can go up to his room. Third floor, back. Knock hard he's a heavy sleeper." Sophie climbed the stairs and knocked loudly. "Come!" was the answer in German, in Mr. Feuerstein's deep stage-voice.
Feuerstein's gaze wandered from face to face among the young women, to pause at last upon a dark, handsome, strong-looking daughter of the people. She had coal-black hair that curled about a low forehead. Her eyes were dreamy and stormy. Her mouth was sweet, if a trifle petulant. "And who is she?" he asked. "That's Hilda Brauner," replied Horwitz.
When the twenty was hidden, and the small but typical operation in high finance was complete, he shook Dippel. "I say, old man," he said, "hadn't you better let me keep your money for you? I'm afraid you'll lose it." Dippel slowly unclosed one eye and gave him a look of glassy cunning. He again drew the roll from his pocket, and, clasping it tightly in his fist, waved it under Feuerstein's nose.
Feuerstein's address," said Otto. "That dead-beat?" the young man replied contemptuously. "I suppose he got into you like he did into every one else. Yes, you can have his address. And give him one for me when you catch him. He did me out of ten dollars." Otto went on to the boarding-house in East Sixteenth Street. No, Mr.
Windisch, say he can have you put out of court." And Peter bustled and slammed his way out. Beck telephoned Loeb, and they took lunch together. "Ganser has found out about Feuerstein's wife," was Beck's opening remark. Loeb drew his lip back over his teeth. "I wish I'd known it two hours sooner. I let Feuerstein have ten dollars more." "More?" "More. He's had ninety-five on account.
"You'd better go at once. Give him the tip that Feuerstein's about to force him to produce his daughter in court. But you understand. Try to induce him to go to Beck." Travis grinned and Loeb's eyes twinkled. "You might lay it on strong about Feuerstein's actor-craze for getting into the papers." "That's a grand idea," exclaimed Travis.
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