"I should like to see the Consul," replied Norman.
"Why?" said the clerk, clicking on a new line and rattling off again.
"Even the British Consulate has gone mad in Alsander," thought Norman, in despair. "Or does he mean to be rude?"
"I have some urgent private affairs to discuss," he said.
"Passport?" urged the clerk.
"I'm afraid I haven't got one," said Norman.
"Name?" insisted the clerk.
"Price," snapped Norman, thankful it was monosyllabic.
The clerk seized a table telephone with one hand, while he still fumbled the keys with the other.
"Price—private—no passport," he shouted into the vulcanite ear.