The Rathskeller was a large room, with a bar at one end and many little tables scattered about. At these tables men were eating, drinking and smoking. A violin, harp and piano, played by a trio of Italians, were doing their worst with a popular melody.
The captain looked about him, selected one of three chairs at an unoccupied table, and sat down. A waiter drifted alongside.
“What'll you have, sir?” inquired the waiter.
“Hey? Oh, I don't know. Give me a cup of coffee.”
“Coffee? Yes, sir. Anything to eat?”
“No, I guess not. I've had my dinner.”
“Smoke?”
“Well, you might bring me a ten-cent cigar.”
The coffee and cigar were brought. Daniel lit the latter, took a sip of the former and listened to the music. This was not taking a walk exactly, but, so far as leaving his wife alone was concerned, it answered the purpose.
The room, already well tenanted, gradually filled. Groups of men entered, stopped to glance at the tape of a sporting news ticker near the bar, exchanged a word or two with the bartenders, and then selected tables. Several times the two vacant chairs at the captain's table were on the point of being taken, but each time the prospective occupants went elsewhere.