Fr. 382.40

and not only would it have given away a whole lot of diplomatic secrets,
but the American mission would also have got to pay a luxury tax of ten
per cent. on the hotel's telephone number and a little mistake of a
hundred francs in the addition."

"But this here Hotel Crillon was a strictly first-class hotel, Mawruss,"
Abe said, "and with strictly first-class hotels it's the same in Europe
as it is in this country, Mawruss; the rates are so fixed that it ain't
necessary for the management to make mistakes in the bill, while the
accounting department always figures the overhead so as to include the
hotel's telephone number, the number of the guest's room, and, in the
case of mountain-resort hotels, the altitude of the hotel above
sea-level."

"Well, that's just what I am driving into, Abe," Morris said. "Even when
hotel bills are submitted weekly and the management has got his signed
checks to show for it, Abe, nobody never realizes that he owes all that
money to a hotel, y'understand, and when at the end of the peace
commission's tenancy the hotel management sends in its final bill, Abe,
there's going to be considerable argument between Mr. Joseph Grew, the
secretary of the commission, and all them Peace Conferencers, expert and
otherwise, as to who ordered what and when, y'understand, which I see by
the newspapers, Abe, that Mr. Grew has already begun an investigation
about who authorized the serving of one hundred bottles tchampanyer wine
on June 14th, and if Mr. Grew couldn't trace the party which signed for
one hundred bottles tchampanyer wine on June 14th, y'understand, what
chance does he have of finding out who is responsible for each and
every one of the hundreds of checks with illegible signatures which is
bound to show up in the final accounting for such articles as scrambled
eggs, bacon, and coffee, which any Peace Conferencers might have signed
for, whether his home town was in a dry state or not, Abe."

"And Mr. Grew wouldn't get no sympathy from the President, neither,
Mawruss," Abe said, "which, when the morning mail arrives at the White
House nowadays just as Mr. Wilson is saying to Mrs. Wilson, '_Some_
coffee, mommer!'--because the average American has got to be home from
Europe at least a month before a good cup of coffee ceases to become a
miracle, Mawruss--it won't take more than two letters from Mr. Grew
asking Mr. Wilson does he remember