"Well, won't you answer my question?"
Indeed, what would have been easier than to relate how some gentleman, whom I did not know, came to me; he had a beard that reached to his knees, wore spectacles, and a green overcoat: they must then try to find the man, if they could:—but then—I could not any longer have gazed into the questioning eyes.
No! I would not lie: nor would I play the traitor.
"Will you answer?" the director cried at me for the third time.
"I cannot answer."
"Ho ho, that is a fine statement. Perhaps you don't know the man?"
"I know, but will not betray him."
I thought that, at this answer of mine, the director would surely take up his inkstand and hurl it at my head.
But he did not: he took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box, and looked askance at his neighbor, Schmuck, as much as to say, "It is what I expected from him."
Thereupon Mr. Schmuck ceased to twirl his thumbs and turning to me with a tender face he addressed me with soothing tones:—