"It is now zat I prove ze politeness of ze French," he murmured.
A moment later Mr. Garlach entered from the other side.
"Goot effning, Herr Socrates," he said, with a stiff bow.
"Bon jour!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat. "Only, if it pleases you my dear
Professor Garlick, my name ees wizout ze final syllable."
"Und mine it iss Garla-a-ach, und not like de leek vat you eat!" exclaimed the German.
"They're off!" said Jack in a whisper to Sam.
"Your pardon!" came from Mr. Socrat. "I am in error. But I have here a note in which I wish to greet you wiz the happiness of parting. It iss in your own language!"
"Ach! So! I too have a missive for you," went on Mr. Garlach, somewhat modified. "It iss in your tongue as I belief, but I am not so goot in it as perhaps you are."
"It is charming of you," spoke Mr. Socrat, bowing low. The two professors exchanged notes, and then stepped over to a flaring gaslight where they could read them.
"Now watch out!" exclaimed Jack.