By this remark he testified to a keen recollection of his Viennese experiences and the double dealing (no pun intended) of the Austrian shopkeeper just at the present epoch in the national finance system of that country.
Behind the boards two uniformed officials paced up and down, and when all was neatly ranged before them the one bestowed his attention upon Rosina while the other turned his in among the infinity of boxes belonging to her party. He peeped into two or three of the valises and chalked them and all of their kind; then he demanded the opening of the largest dress-box. Ottillie unstrapped it and undertook to satisfy his curiosity to the fullest possible extent.
The object uppermost of all was a Russian leather writing-tablet. The official leapt upon that at once.
“On this you must pay thirty centimes,” he declared, grabbing it up.
“Warum?” said Jack. He found “warum” the most useful word in his German vocabulary, because by the very nature of things it always threw the burden of the conversation on to the shoulders of the other party.
“You cannot pretend that it is an article of wearing apparel for madame,” said the officer archly.
“I never said that it was an article of wearing apparel for any one,” Jack retorted hotly; “I asked why I had to pay thirty centimes on it. It isn’t new and it isn’t dutiable, and I know that, and you know it too.”
“What is it, anyhow?” asked the man.
“It’s to write on.”
“Why does not madame write on paper, like everybody else?” inquired the witty fellow.