The President had already taken a leaf from his pocket-book, and sat down at the farmer's little desk to write his announcement.
"What did you say was your name, Captain?" he asked over his shoulder.
Reinhold was no longer in the room; he must just have left it. The maid who came in with the coffee told them that the gentleman had put on his macintosh in the outer-room, and said that he must see what had become of the steamer.
"A true sailor!" said the General. "He cannot rest in peace; it would be just the same with me."
"I suppose we must include him? what do you think?" asked the President in a low voice of Elsa.
"Certainly!" said Elsa, with decision.
"Perhaps he does not wish it?"
"Possibly; but we must not leave the decision to him. His name is Schmidt."
"Classical name," murmured the President, bending over his paper.
The messenger was sent off; the farmer came in to keep the gentlemen company, while Elsa went back to the wife in the smoky little kitchen to tell her what had been arranged.