“Certainly. That is reasonable,” acceded the German, pompously. He sat down before a telephone on the table and for five minutes vainly tried to get any communication. One of his colleagues muttered angrily:
“The Spartacans have cut some of the wires. I doubt if you can get a police station.”
The man at the telephone shook his head. “No, no. It’s the current that’s weak. The power houses are not——” He broke off to say to Bob, with a sort of exasperated dignity, “I will send a servant to fetch you a taxicab and an escort.”
“Very well,” agreed Bob. “Shall we wait in the drawing-room across the hall?”
“Yes, yes—sehr gut.” The German walked with the officers to the library door, his face showing all the angry annoyance he was powerless to conceal. “Cursed rebels,” he growled, more to himself than to his listeners. “I will inform you, gentlemen, when the taxi arrives.”
“He’s more put out because we saw his helplessness than at the real state of things,” said Alan as they sank down into the depths of a red plush sofa to wait.
“It’s funny,” pondered Bob, looking out between the heavy curtains at the square, where the firing had slackened. “In spite of Berlin’s former good government they don’t seem to have any resources at a time like this. Those old codgers talking in there aren’t going to accomplish much.”
“They only know how to govern by force. Their leaders have no real influence over the people,” commented Alan, in one of his rare thoughtful moments. “I expect that burly chap who talked with us is lord and master of all this grandeur.” He waved one hand about the drawing-room. “How can he think at all, Bob? Wouldn’t even your lively brain be stifled in this wilderness of plush and lace? Why, hello—they’ve sent a woman for the taxi! Isn’t that just like them?”
The street door had closed before he spoke and a slight figure came into view in front of the house—a woman with head and shoulders wrapped in a shawl, who hesitated, visibly frightened, though the firing had ceased and a few citizens again ventured abroad. Bob went to the window and looked down at her as, having evidently summoned up her courage, she stepped off the curb, only to hesitate again on the edge of the square.
“What a beastly shame! Let’s stop her,” he exclaimed, fumbling with the window-catch beyond the layers of curtain.