AUGUSTUS [haughtily approaching the clerk, who humorously makes a paralytic attempt to stand at attention]. Have you any further business here, pray?
THE CLERK. Am I to give the waiter anything; or will you do it yourself?
AUGUSTUS. Which waiter is it? The English one?
THE CLERK. No: the one that calls hisself a Swiss. Shouldn't wonder if he'd made a copy of that paper.
AUGUSTUS. Keep your impertinent surmises to yourself, sir. Remember that you are in the army now; and let me have no more of your civilian insubordination. Attention! Left turn! Quick march!
THE CLERK [stolidly]. I dunno what you mean.
AUGUSTUS. Go to the guard-room and report yourself for disobeying orders. Now do you know what I mean?
THE CLERK. Now look here. I ain't going to argue with you—
AUGUSTUS. Nor I with you. Out with you.
He seizes the clerk: and rushes him through the door. The moment the lady is left alone, she snatches a sheet of official paper from the stationery rack: folds it so that it resembles the list; compares the two to see that they look exactly alike: whips the list into her wallet: and substitutes the facsimile for it. Then she listens for the return of Augustus. A crash is heard, as of the clerk falling downstairs.