“As we are,” said Newton gloomily.
“That is a question,” said Oberzohn, “so far as I am concerned.”
Dr. Oberzohn never jested; he spoke with the greatest calm and assurance. The other man could only stare at him.
Although it was light, a green lamp showed clearly in the turret room of the doctor’s house as he came within sight of the ugly place. And, seeing that warning, he did not expect to be met in the passage by Gurther. The man had changed from his resplendent kit and was again in the soiled and shabby garments he had discarded the night before.
“You have come, Gurther?”
“Ja, Herr Doktor.”
“To my parlour!” barked Dr. Oberzohn, and marched ahead.
Gurther followed him and stood with his back to the door, erect, his chin raised, his bright, curious eyes fixed on a point a few inches above his master’s head.
“Tell me now.” The doctor’s ungainly face was working ludicrously.
“I saw the man and struck, Herr Doktor, and then the lights went out and I went to the floor, expecting him to shoot. . . . I think he must have taken the gracious lady. I did not see, for there was a palm between us. I returned at once to the greater hall, and walked through the people on the floor. They were very frightened.”