Fischer explained it all. My fame as an aero mechanic had reached the ears of the proprietor of the Halbermond Hotel where an army flying man had arrived, and when he had inquired for a man of the sort, the proprietor had mentioned me, and I was ordered to go to him.
Fischer didn't like the business at all, fearing that it might interfere with his plans; and it was this which he and Braun had been discussing so earnestly.
"You'll have to be very careful, Bulich. If he thinks you're half as good a hand as you are, he's likely to want you for the army."
"I'll be careful. Do you know what the job is?" I asked Braun.
"Pulitz didn't know either," he said, shaking his head.
"Who's Pulitz?"
"The blabber who keeps the Halbermond," replied Fischer irritably. "He must have lost his head to say a word about you. It wouldn't matter if you were twenty years older; but there, he was always a fool and always will be, I suppose."
"Who's the flying man?"
"I don't know. Stranger here; just driven up in his car. If he'd been any one any of us knew, we might have done something."
"Doesn't the Halbermond man, Pulitz, know him?"