Countess. I didn’t start out to: you wished it on yourselves. I came to trim your father. You remember, I wanted to see him, but I looked so soft you thought you’d grab me off and sell me the French agency of your Thirteen Soap. I didn’t think your father could be as big a boob as you were, so I changed my plans. Do you get me?
Peale. Yes, I get you and now I’m going to get the cops to get you. (Starts up-stage)
Countess. (Laughs. Crosses down L.) I should burst into laughter. Why, you pikers, I’m on: you’re busted. You haven’t any money and you have got a phoney company.
Rodney. Now, see here—(Goes to her)
Countess. Preserve it. Preserve it. (Crosses to center) Don’t forget, I’ve understood everything you two guys were talking about.
Peale. Whew! (Sits in arm-chair R.)
Rodney. Gee! (Goes to arm-chair L.)
Countess. (To Rodney) “Kiss her hand—it’s French stuff.” (To Peale) “Ah, there, you little life-saver.” (To Rodney) “The money with you—argent avec vous?” Gee, your French is rotten. (To Peale, who moves away) “Shall I kiss her?” (A pause) Send for the cops and I’ll blow the whole thing to the papers. (A pause) Well, I guess we’re quits. If you had any money I’d ask for a piece of change to keep me quiet, but as it is, I can’t waste my time.
Rodney. (Rises) You’re not French at all?
Countess. I was educated over there—immense, wasn’t I? You never tumbled at all.