"I'm very sorry, sir, but I only just heard you wished to see me," I replied, with appropriate servile nervousness.
"I've a good mind to put you under arrest. And are you the man these Lingen fools think a good mechanic? You look more like a dirty street sweeper, coming into my presence in that filthy state."
"I thought it best——"
"Who the devil wants to know what you think?" he burst in, pouring out another bumper of wine and draining it at a draught. "Answer my question, can't you? Not stand there gibbering like a lunatic." There was scarcely a sentence without an oath to punctuate it.
"I came at once without stopping to clean myself, sir."
"Then some other fool must have bungled my message. I said you were to come immediately, and when I say a thing I mean it." Another oath for garnishment. "What's your clownish name, confound you?"
"Hans Bulich, sir."
"Do you know a plough from an aeroplane?"
"Yes, sir," I answered with Teutonic stolidity.
"Ever been in one?"