Come in. [Louder.] Come in! [Santha enters at left, carrying an envelope and two receipts.]
Santha—Pardon me, Mr. Juhasz, but the cashier sent this in. Will you sign this receipt, please?
Juhasz—Yes. . . . I'll be there in a moment.
Santha—You need only
Juhasz—Don't you see I'm busy? Tell the cashier I'll be there in a moment.
Santha—It isn't necessary. Just take this, and sign. [Proffers the envelope and the receipts.]
Juhasz—[Looks at them.] Isn't this an error?
Santha—It is addressed to you. Juhasz—[Reads.] From the Deutsche Bank, of Berlin . . . to the Ungarische Allgemeine Credit-*bank . . . to the account of Mr. Peter Juhasz . . . from Mr. Oscar Mezei, of Berlin. . . . [The hand holding the receipt sinks slowly. Juhasz himself sinks into a chair, then raises the receipt to his eyes again, very slowly, as if his arm were tired.] From Oscar Mezei, Berlin . . . fifty-one thousand kronen. [He looks into the envelope; sees the sheaf of bank-*notes there.] Didn't I tell you, Santha? I always said he'd send it. But you all laughed at me.
Santha—Will you sign the receipt, please?
Juhasz—[Rather dazed.] Certainly. [He signs.]
Santha—[Takes the signed receipt; leaves the
