"Until I sail," he decided, "I stay here. It is better so."
"You know best, of course," Fischer replied. "Where's Mr. Van Teyl?"
"He has gone out with his sister, sir—the young lady in the next suite," Nikasti announced.
Fischer sighed for a moment. Then he finished his cocktail, drew on his gloves, and turned towards the door.
"Well, good night," he said. "Perhaps you are wise to stay here.
Remember always what it is that you carry about with you."
"I shall remember," Nikasti promised.
Fischer entered his automobile and drove to a fashionable restaurant in the neighbourhood of Fifth Avenue. Arrived here, he made his way to a room on the first floor, into which he was ushered by one of the head waiters. Von Schwerin was already there, talking with a little company of men.
"Ah, our friend Fischer!" the latter exclaimed. "That makes our number complete."
A waiter handed around cocktails. Fischer smiled as he raised his glass to his lips.
"It is something, at least," he confided, "to be back in a country where one can speak freely. I raise my arm. Von Schwerin and gentlemen—'To the Fatherland!'"