"Whatever happens to any of us, this is certainly the last time we three are likely to have a meal together," said Errington.
The situation was certainly novel. Men have sat down at table with murder in their hearts; quarrels have arisen at the board; but it is not common for two men to eat with a third whom one has just knocked down, and whose moustache the other is wearing.
There was naturally a constraint upon the party--upon Errington more particularly, for he could not forget that he had once been Reinhardt's friend, nor that he owed him money. He might suspect that the German had cheated him, but a debt is a debt. Yet to eat in silence was impossible, and presently Burroughs broke the ice.
"Have some of this," he said to Reinhardt, looking into one of the pans.
"I beg pardon," said Reinhardt. "I am a little hard of hearing."
The Englishmen glanced at each other.
"Better go the whole hog and do it decently while we are about it," said Errington.
"Perhaps you can do something to cure yourself," said Burroughs in a loud tone to the German.
Reinhardt removed the wads from his ears, and looking at them doubtfully for a moment, laid them down on the floor beside him.
"Zanks," he said. "Now I am all attention."