John Bernard Lynch

“ An orchestra of three pieces, cornet, violin and piano, was playing an enticing waltz, and playing it well, considering the place and the hour. A very pretty girl adorned the piano stool, and the cornetist, an elderly chap, took such good care of her that Goldman thought he must be her father. The violinist stood outside the family group, fiddling cleverly. Goldman liked him because he was so different from the man who had pawned the fiddle. He should never care for pale men with flowing locks again. ”

“ Still, the customer made no move to depart, and after complaining because there was no fly in the amber, the mosaic was condemned as "modern," his attention reverted to the violin.
"So it's not for sale?" said the customer, slowly. "Well, I'm sorry. I've taken up a lot of your time, and I'd like to see you paid for your courtesy. But—what can a man do when the only object he cares for is 'not for sale'?"
Uncle Myer sighed in disgust, even while he wondered if the man wanted the violin, or was only trying to cover his exit neatly.
"Would you really like the fiddle?" he asked. ”

“ To get too much might keep us apart too long, for genius is often hungry and fortune is a fickle jade. Let me have three dollars until the ghost walks."
With an expression of relief the pawnbroker, after a causual examination, turned to the desk and, securing his customer's name and address, passed money and pawn ticket across the counter.
The grotesque customer moved slowly toward the door and then stopped. "Pardon me," he said, as he retraced his steps, "I trust you appreciate how important the safe keeping of that violin is. Being delicate it is extremely sensitive to heat and cold. ”

“ And he wore what Uncle Myer diagnosed as a lean and hungry air.
"Say," he pleaded, "I'm whipped clean again, and I've got to have an extra two dollars. My ship is still pounding its nose off beyond the coast of plenty. Can you add another two spot to the violin incumbrance?"
"Well, maybe," considered the pawnbroker. "Or—perhaps you'd sell the violin?"
"And perhaps I wouldn't think of anything of the kind," was the immediate reply. "Guess you don't know the soul of art that is held in bondage for want of a few dollars. ”

“ In fact, the man who pawned the violins and did the dirty work was really a dupe. The fellow who got away, an old-time gentleman crook, uses his brains to pick out uncompromising jobs, attended, with little risk. He got acquainted with the violinist at the cabaret, where the plan was arranged.
"The queerest part of the story," added the inspector, "begins with the stealing of all the violins in Providence. One of the lot was taken from a wealthy residence and is a real Stradivarius, for which there is a reward of five hundred dollars. ”

“ After all, a hundred and fifty was a bunch of money, and if the poor fellow didn't know he was selling a "Strad" he would realize that he had been well paid — when he came to think it over. "An old master!" ”