"Where is the proprietor?" she asked.
"He is not very well this evening," I told her. "He may be round later on."
"You do not talk like a German," she said, dropping into her own language.
"I have been in America nearly all my life," I answered in German. "I speak English more readily, perhaps, but the other soon returns."
"Get me the German papers, please," she said. "I expect my man will keep me waiting to-night."
I bowed and took the opportunity to escape. I sent the papers by one of the waiters. Madame was a little too anxious to cross-examine me. I began checking some counterfoils at the desk, but before I had been there five minutes the door of the inner room was opened, and Mr. Hirsch appeared upon the threshold. He caught my eye and beckoned to me solemnly. I crossed the room, ascended the steps, and found myself in what the waiters called the club-room. Mr. Hirsch carefully closed the door behind me.
The first thing that surprised me was, that although I had seen nine men ascend the three stairs and enter the room, there was now, besides myself and Hirsch, only one other person present. That other person was sitting at the head of the table, and he was of distinctly a different class from Hirsch and his friends. He was a young man, fair and well built, and as obviously a soldier as though he were wearing his uniform. His clothes were well cut, his hands shapely and white. Some instinct told me what to do. I stood to the salute, and I saw a glance of satisfaction pass between the two men.
"Your name is Paul Schmidt?" the man at the table asked me.
"Yes, sir!" I answered.
"You served at Mayence?"