Helms. Hmm!
Krakau. [Opens the window, throws out the coin. The music plays more vigorously, then suddenly stops.] The porter is chasing him away.... I suppose it's because Larsen is sick downstairs.
Helms [laughs angrily]. Huh! You were in an awful hurry about throwing that money down, weren't you? Well, I won't pay you for that.
Krakau [hastily closing the window]. What kind of a way is that?
Helms. You should have waited until he'd played a few tunes.
Krakau. How was I going to know the porter would chase him away?
Helms. That's your lookout. You should have waited, then you would have seen, I won't pay you back.
Krakau. You're a damned old swindler, Helms, and you always were. [Turns away and pulls out his pipe.]
Helms [sees the pipe]. I can't bear tobacco smoke to-day; my throat's too bad.
Krakau. Let me tell you something; I take no orders from you.