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Updated: April 30, 2025
"You don't got to bribe me to tell you that, Potash," he said, "because I ain't got no concern in that order no longer. I give up my commission there to a feller by the name Ignatz Kresnick." "A white-faced feller with a big red mustache?" Abe asked. "That's him," Mozart replied. "The luck that feller Kresnick got it is something you wouldn't believe at all.
"What for a looking feller is this salesman of yours?" "He's a tall, white-faced loafer with a big red mustache," Gans replied, "and his name is Ignatz Kresnick." Abe jumped to his feet. "Come with me," he cried.
Together they took the elevator to the eighth floor and, as Ignatz Kresnick dealt the cards for the five-hundredth time in that game, all unconscious of his fast-approaching Nemesis, Mozart Rabiner played the concluding measures of the Liebestod softly, slowly, like a benediction: Ertrinken Versinken Unbewusst Höchste Lust. "Who do you think I seen it in Hammersmith's just now, Mawruss?"
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