Guest was himself again in a moment. I stepped out into the restaurant, where a few early luncheon guests were already arriving, and attended to my duties as well as I could. Hirsch and his wife were at their usual corner table, and they were presently joined by Marx, and two others of the committee before whom I had appeared. They all carried newspapers, and their conversation, though constant and animated, always languished at my approach—a fact which somewhat alarmed me. Madame watched me ceaselessly. I was perfectly certain once, when their heads were very close together, that I was the subject of their conversation. As soon as I realized this, I tried, without pointedly avoiding them, to keep out of their way.
We were very full that morning, and every one seemed to linger a long time over their luncheon. I was sick to death of the place, and my weary peregrinations from table to table, of the smile I wore, and the small jests and complaints I was forced to receive. The smell of the cooking was like some loathsome poison in my nostrils. I felt that morning, with the depression of despair upon my heart, that this was a fool's game which I had been playing. And then my heart stood still, and my recently developed powers of self-control received a severe shock. A familiar little yap had given me the first warning, I turned sharply round towards the door. Adèle, followed by a small elderly gentleman with a red ribbon in his buttonhole, had just entered.
I hastened towards them, and I addressed Adèle without a flicker of recognition in my face. I piloted them to a table a little apart, and handed her the carte.
"We shall remain," she said calmly, and with the air of one giving an order, "until the place is nearly empty. Come and talk to us as soon as you can safely."
I bowed, and handed them over to the waiter whose duty it was to serve at their table. As I passed down the room, I glanced towards the Hirsch table. They had ceased their conversation. Every one of them was staring at the newcomers. Soon they began to whisper together. Madame beckoned to me.
"Do you know who they are, Herr Paul, those people who have just come in?" she asked. "The little old gentleman, for instance! He is a Frenchman, is he not?"
I shook my head.
"They are strangers, Madame," I told her. "The gentleman has not spoken yet, but he wears a red ribbon in his coat."
Madame dismissed me with a little nod. I stood for a moment at a neighboring table, and I heard Hirsch's low voice.
"If it is he," he muttered, "there is mischief brewing, but he has come too late."