“His name?”
“His name is Topinard, he says.”
“I will go out to him. Sign without disturbing yourself,” said Gaudissart, addressing Schmucke. “Make an end of it; I will find out what he wants with us.”
Gaudissart understood Fraisier; both scented danger.
“Why are you here?” Gaudissart began. “So you have no mind to be cashier at the theatre? Discretion is a cashier’s first recommendation.”
“Sir—”
“Just mind your own business; you will never be anything if you meddle in other people’s affairs.”
“Sir, I cannot eat bread if every mouthful of it is to stick in my throat.... Monsieur Schmucke!—M. Schmucke!” he shouted aloud.
Schmucke came out at the sound of Topinard’s voice. He had just signed. He held the money in his hand.
“Thees ees for die liddle German maiden und for you,” he said.