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HOLLYWOOD PLUCK 139
noon the rugs arrived. Then I called this brigand again and made an appointment with him to come to the house. I explained that I wanted him to help me select the proper rug for my dining room. He agreed to come.
In the meantime I had my lawyer, the insurance adjuster, and a stenographer come to my home just before the appointed hour. When my fine Armenian friend drove up, the others hid behind the door leading from the dining room to the kitchen. I opened the front door myself and led my victim into the dining room.
"There it is," I said, pointing to the rug. "You can see that it is ruined."
He groaned and beat his chest as he looked at the rug. "What a terrible catastrophe! That beautiful rug!"
"As I remember," I said, "I paid you fifteen hundred dollars for the rug."
"That ees true, but she was worth much more."
"Naturally. It's a genuine Ispahan, is it not?"
"Oh, yes. The finest example of the rug weaver's art."
"You guarantee that, don't you?"
"Oh, absolutely."
That was all I wanted to hear. I turned to the door where the others were hiding and opened it with a flourish. Then I revealed to this Armenian porch climber that the stenographer had taken down every word he had said and that my lawyer and the insurance expert were witnesses.
Faced by all four of us he knew he was caught. It was like a scene from a movie, and I played it to the hilt. This fellow turned white, he gulped, and he choked. Then he asked for a glass of water.
"You'll get no glass of water in my house," I shouted. "I am keeping the six nigs you sent me until I get my money back. And if I don't get it, I'll sue you!"
I got my money back, but still I was not cured. It wasn't long afterward that I bought a set of dress studs— at a bargain. I paid $900 for them and thought I was getting them at wholesale. One