"I didn't know you were here," gasped Truxton, forgetting to be
surprised by the other's English. "The place looked empty. Excuse me for
yelling."

"What do you want?"

"That broad--Say, you speak English, don't you?"

"Certainly," snapped the old man. "Why shouldn't I? I can't afford an
interpreter. You'll find plenty of English used here in Edelweiss since
the Americans and British came. They won't learn our language, so we
must learn theirs."

"You speak it quite as well as I do."

"Better, young man. You are an American." The sarcasm was not lost on
Truxton King, but he was not inclined to resent it. A twinkle had come
into the eyes of the ancient; the deep lines about his lips seemed
almost ready to crack into a smile.

"What's the price of that old sword you have in the window?"

"Do you wish to purchase it?"

"Certainly."

"Three hundred gavvos."

"What's that in dollars?"