I obeyed, and he talked with Hirsch for several moments in an undertone.
Then he turned once more to me.
"We shall accept you, Paul Schmidt," he said gravely. "You will come before the committee with us now."
I saluted, but said nothing. Hirsch pushed away the table, and, stooping down, touched what seemed to be a spring in the floor. A slight crack was instantly disclosed, which gradually widened until it disclosed a ladder. We descended, and found ourselves in a dry cellar, lit with electric lights. Seven men were sitting round a small table, in the farthest corner of the place. Their conversation was suspended as we appeared, and my interlocutor, leaving Hirsch and myself in the background, at once plunged into a discussion with them. I, too, should have followed him, but Hirsch laid his hand upon my arm.
"Wait a little," he whispered. "They will call us up."
"Who is he?" I asked, pointing to the tall military figure bending stiffly down at the table.
"Call him Captain X," Hirsch answered softly. "He does not care to be known here!"
"But how did he get into the room upstairs?" I asked. "I never saw him in the restaurant."
Hirsch smiled placidly.
"It is well," he said, "my young friend, that you do not ask too many questions!"
The man whom I was to call Captain X turned now and beckoned to me. I approached and stood at attention.