While studying several semesters in Breslau, Frederick had eked out his income by tutoring a boy, a rather desperate case, whose father, a furniture manufacturer, paid handsomely for his son's private lessons. Frederick's pupil turned out to be a good-hearted chap, an amusing scapegrace, who soon became his devoted slave. It was this scapegrace, now a full-grown man, that Frederick recognised in the jolly Japanese.
"How I come to be here? I'll explain later," said Willy, his nostrils dilating with the joy of seeing his teacher again. "The first thing is, have you already engaged rooms, and shall I slip you past that damned lot of reporters? Or do you want to be interviewed?"
"For heaven's sake, no! Not for the world."
"Then stick close to me," shouted Willy. "A cab is waiting for us, and we'll drive straight to our folks."
Frederick introduced Ingigerd.
"I must first see this young lady safe to a hotel. And even then I can't leave her entirely alone."
Willy instantly took in the situation, but it did not change his plans.
"Miss Hahlström can stop with us, too. She will be far more comfortable than in a hotel. The only question is, can she put up with Italian cooking?"
"I don't anticipate any difficulties from your macaroni and spaghetti al sugo," said Frederick, who read Ingigerd's willingness in her eyes. "So I'll follow your lead as you followed mine years ago."
"All right! Forward, march!" Willy's joy in his booty was patent.