"You—you wish to cash a check?" The guard was overcome by confusion, for the loud tones of Chacherre penetrated the entire institution. "But you are not known here"
"Bah, insolent one! Macaque dan calebasse—monkey in the calabash that you are! Do you not know me?"
"Heaven preserve me! I will not answer for your accursed checks."
"Go to the devil, then," snapped Chacherre, and turned away.
His roving eyes had already found the correct window by means of the other persons seeking it, and now he stepped into the small queue that had formed. When it came his turn, he slid his check across the marble slab, tucked his thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and impudently stared into the questioning, coldly repellent eyes of the teller.
"Well?" he exclaimed, as the teller examined the check. "Do you wish to eat it, that you sniff so hard?"
The teller gave him a glance. "This is for a thousand dollars"
"Can I not read?" said Chacherre, with an impudent gesture. "Am I an ignorant
