"I am looking for the proprietor," Claire began, desperately.
The man brought his right hand toward his heart, letting his head fall in salutation. Claire took courage.
"I understand ... it seems you are looking for a pianist." The man stared and bowed again. "To play.... Do you understand ... I play?" She began instinctively to make the proper descriptive motions with her fingers.
"Ah, yes! Thank you ... thank you!" The man continued to keep his hand over his heart and to bow deeply.
The sound of hammering floated from the space screened by the green curtains. The man called to some one. A waiter appeared. The two conversed long and volubly. Finally the waiter, turning to Claire, said, in excellent English:
"Mr. Lycurgus does not understand very well. What is it you want?"
"I hear he is looking for a pianist," Claire returned.
"Oh yes. In the back ... the piano is there."
The three passed through the screened opening and Claire found herself in a huge room still in the process of being put into shape as a café in the American fashion.
"Mr. Lycurgus," the waiter explained to Claire, "is fixing up a swell place here. He bought a piano yesterday. After a while, when he gets a permit, we shall have dancing. We want now somebody to play ... from six o'clock to twelve."