"Five dollars," he said casually.
I glanced at him skeptically. The machine was a Remington Noiseless, with italics, probably worth a little over a hundred new, and it couldn't have been more than a year or two old.
"How much?" I asked.
"Five dollars, is what I said. Five." He held up the fingers of his widespread hand. "Five. One-two-three...."
"What's wrong with it?" I asked suspiciously.
The old man shrugged. "Something has to be wrong with it? Listen, young man, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."
"How come it's so cheap?"
The old man sighed deeply. "You try to do a favor, you get all kinds of questions. Would you feel happier if I charged you fifty-five dollars?"
"I wouldn't pay fifty-five dollars. I haven't got that much money."
"Have you got five dollars? Can you pay that much?"