"Iss dot der fire marshal?" he managed to articulate.

"Listen, Mr. Cohn. Your store is not on fire, but I had to say so in
order to get you to the telephone. I am Mr. Peck, a total stranger to
you. You have a blue vase in your shop window on Geary Street in San
Francisco. I want to buy it and I want to buy it before seven forty-five
tonight. I want you to come across the bay and open the store and sell
me that vase."

"Such a business! Vot you think I am? Crazy?"

"No, Mr. Cohn, I do not. I'm the only crazy man talking. I'm crazy for
that vase and I've got to have it right away."

"You know vot dot vase costs?" Mr. B. Cohn's voice dripped syrup.

"No, and I don't give a hoot what it costs. I want what I want when I
want it. Do I get it?"

"Ve-ell, lemme see. Vot time iss it?" A silence while B. Cohn evidently
looked at his watch. "It iss now a quarter of seven, Mr. Eckstein, und
der nexd drain from Mill Valley don't leaf until eight o'clock. Dot vill
get me to San Francisco at eight-fifty--und I am dining mit friends und
haf just finished my soup."

"To hell with your soup. I want that blue vase."

"Vell, I tell you, Mr. Eckstein, if you got to have it, call up my head
salesman, Herman Joost, in der Chilton Apardments--Prospect
three--two--four--nine, und tell him I said he should come down right