SCENE II
Scene.—My room at the Clift Hotel.
Half an hour has elapsed.
(Self discovered, washing face. There is a knock at the door.)
Self. "Come in."
(Enter Armenian.)
Armenian. "Ah, 'ere you vos. Ze manager tolt me your room. I come right up."
Self. "Apparently."
Armenian. "I vont to buy your motorsickle; vot you vont for 'im?"
Self. "Speak respectfully, please. I want 500 dollars for her."
Armenian (throwing up his hands in horror). "Ah, zat vos too much, my frent! Dot vos more zan you give for 'im—for 'er."
Self. "And how the devil do you know what I gave for her?"
Armenian. "I haf made enquiries, jhust. I af bin to ze aghency 'ere. Zey say it vos 480 dollars."
Self. "Well, any fool knows a machine improves with running (the blush is unnoticed beneath my Indian complexion); and what's more, if a machine can stick it all the way across The United States of America it must be a dem good one. I should have asked 600, but I like your face (cold shivers down spine), so I only want 500."
Armenian. "Ah, zat vos far too much. I vill gif you von 'undred fifteen—no more."
Self. "Nothin' doin', bo. Five hundred. Here's my card; you can call round any time between now and to-morrow midday with the money. If you can't do it by then, you can drop in and see me at Salt Lake City after next Wednesday, or Chicago after next Saturday. Cheerio; close the door as you go out."
Armenian (reading card and much awed by same). "Ah, you vos Mistaire Sh—— Captin Sheffer, R.A.F.? I tink you vos vaire rich man. You could afford to gif me ze machine! Not so? Me vaire poor man, Captain Sheffer, R.A.F."
Self. "If you knew as much about the Air Force as I do, you'd know better, my friend. Now, for Heaven's sake, buzz off, and don't worry me."
(Exit Armenian with bows, shuffles of the feet, and salaams.)