“Wait.” Zu Pfeiffer withdrew his legs and rose. “Ach, tell the fool to come over here and wait till I have had my bath.”
“Excellence!” agreed the sergeant and saluting, marched away. Zu Pfeiffer entered the bungalow. Across the square came Birnier with the sergeant who [pg 38] ushered him into the screened portion of the verandah.
“His Excellence gom bresently,” said the sergeant and left him.
Birnier put his Tirai hat on the table, and seeing no other, sat in the Bombay chair; looked about him; idly examined the brand on the box of cigars and smiled. “Makes himself mighty comfortable,” he remarked to himself. “Pity he appears such a boor.” He glanced at the book on the armchair. Allgemeine Geschichte der Philosophie von Prof. Dr. Paul Deussen. “And a philosopher, eh!” Having little German he turned away and lighted his pipe. After a while he began to fidget, wondering how long he was to be kept waiting. “Damn the fellow!” he muttered and picked up one of the books on the table, Les Ba-Rongas, par A. Junod, opened it at random and began to read.
The shadows of one bungalow reached the verandah on the opposite side of the square. And still he read on, the dead pipe in his hand. Just as the twilight was snuffed out like a candle, a sharp step heralded the arrival of the lieutenant. Birnier rose, the book in his hand.
“Good evening, sir!”
“Good evening,” responded zu Pfeiffer, who was in an undress uniform of white. “What is it that you require?”
“Well,” said Birnier, “first of all I must apologise for using your chair and reading your book. Most interesting, by the way.”
“That is nothing,” said zu Pfeiffer as Bakunjala came in with a lamp and a chair. “Please to be seated.”
“Thank you.”