"You've done it already, you lying hypocrite. You know that; and so do I. I've heard of it, and I shall hear if you say any more. And by Heaven, if you dare to say another syllable about it, I'll—well, keep out of my way afterwards, that's all"; and I left him to judge for himself what I would do.
I had to go. I should have mauled the brute if I'd stopped. I was mad with fury; and I walked off, unable for the time to think of anything but his disgusting cowardice and bestiality. I'm no saint, and don't pretend to be one; but this brute's infernal plan to get Nessa into his power was more than flesh and blood could stand. I believe, anyway I hope, I should have felt just as hot if any other girl had been concerned.
I ramped about the streets, taking little notice where I went, and it was not until some of my fury had cooled that I began to consider what steps I ought to take. I was glad I had lost my temper and gone for him; but after a while it began to dawn on me that I had blundered badly. All I needed was to gain a few days' delay; and it would have been far more diplomatic if I had seemed to fall in with his plans and just made a few excuses to account for any inaction.
But one can't always be worrying about diplomacy; and anyhow the beggar was thoroughly scared. Probably he'd be just as much put to it to hit on a new offensive as I was to decide what to do next; and whatever happened I wasn't going to be sorry I'd let myself go. What I was sorry for was that I hadn't been able to "go" with my hands instead of only words.
It wouldn't do merely to twiddle my thumbs, however; and after a while it struck me that the best thing would be to get another interview with old Gratz and just tell him the whole pretty story. If it did no good, it would do no harm, and certainly it would prepare him for any other scheme by von Erstein to prove Nessa to be a spy.
At this point some one clapped me on the shoulder. "Hallo, Cousin Johann, whatever are you doing in this out-of-the-way place?"
It was Hans. "If it comes to that, what are you doing, young man?"
"There's a shindy on in the Untergasse, and I've been watching it. A lot of women kicking up a row about food, or something. It looked like getting warm, so I thought it time to go home."
"Let's go and look at it," I said directly. I had heard rumours in England about bread riots and rather liked the idea of seeing one for myself, and I recalled what the tailor had said about it.
The place was close at hand; and sure enough there was a big crowd and a noisy one, too. Quite a couple of hundred women with a sprinkling of men, and as much noise as at an Irish faction fight. We stood a minute or two at the corner of the street when Hans caught sight of a friend, and asking me to wait for him, ran off.