Читать книгу The Lost Weekend онлайн

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"Guten abend, gnädige Frau," he sang out, speaking loudly as he always did when addressing a foreigner.

"Mr. Birnam, how do you do?"

"I wonder if you can do me a favor, bitte?"

"Okay? What is it?"

"My brother's gone away for the weekend and I find he's taken the checkbook."

"Oh? Do you want a blank check?"

"No, don't bother, danke. Instead could you let me have a little money till Monday? Just for the weekend."

"Let's see--how much?"

"Oh, twenty dollars, bitte schön. That should be enough."

"Oh dear." She smiled, but she frowned too, as if puzzled. "Okay, I guess I can, Mr. Birnam--only, are you sure it's all right?"

"Just till Monday, Mrs. Wertheim."

"I mean," she said--and then seemed to change her mind. "One moment, please. Here, step in." She went to the back of the shop, stood there a moment counting out some bills under the light while he waited in unbearable excitement, and returned. She handed him the bills, shaking her head ever so slightly in a puzzled frown.

He took the money without looking at it and shoved it into his pocket. He smiled cordially at her. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Wertheim," he said. "Mille fois," and he turned back to the street.