"We are right then," he murmured. "I felt sure that I could not be mistaken. This is the place they have made their headquarters. That fellow has gone out to fetch somebody. Soon we shall have some amusement."
In less than five minutes the waiter returned, and there followed him through the swing doors a man to whom he turned and pointed us out. This newcomer was of almost aggressively foreign appearance. He wore dark clothes, a soft slouch hat; his black moustaches were waxed and upturned. His complexion was very sallow, and he was in a perspiration, as though with hurrying. He came straight up to us, and bowed politely.
"Is it permitted," he asked in German, "that I seat myself at your table? There is a little conversation which I should much like to have with you!"
Both Guest and myself rose and returned his bow, and Guest pointed to a seat.
"With much pleasure, sir," he answered. "My name is Mayer, and this is my nephew Schmidt. We have just returned from America."
More bows. The newcomer was exceedingly polite.
"My name," he announced, "is Kauffman. I am resident in London."
"My nephew," Guest continued, "has lived in America since he was a boy, and he speaks more readily English!"
Mr. Kauffman nodded.
"To me," he replied in English, "it is of no consequence. I speak English most. I presume, from what Karl there has told me, that it is your intention to go into the restaurant business in this country."