"Ach! you are afraid, like some sick woman. What is it?" cried Salzinger half angrily, half contemptuously. "Has the work broken your spirit? It was not so in the old days. Johann Stryj, you need a holiday—distraction, like I am seeking." He laughed at his own clumsy humor.
Stryj took no umbrage. He never took umbrage till he had discovered all the possibilities of a man. Von Salzinger had arrived just as he had finished his English breakfast in his essentially English flat in Baker Street. Johann Stryj had spared no pains to mould his whole life and person upon London lines. Von Salzinger had explained nothing as yet of the meaning of his sudden descent upon London. He had merely demanded that his erstwhile comrade now accompany him to his hotel.
"And what—distraction do you seek?"
The man's quick eyes were sharply questioning in spite of the smile accompanying his words.
"That is what I conduct you to my hotel to tell you of."
Johann Stryj appeared to acquiesce, and they progressed in silence for a few paces. Then the quick eyes were again raised in the direction of Von Salzinger's square face.
"You have left us all very far behind in the service of the Fatherland. We hear it all—here. And four years ago you were with us, waiting upon every message that came, wondering where the next few hours would find us."
Stryj's words were calculated to set the other talking. They succeeded. Von Salzinger was obviously pleased.
"You, my Johann, were built for the—service. I was not. I have not that faculty for making my feelings subservient to the needs of the moment. I was glad when the call of the war took me out of it, and—gave me my chance."
Stryj nodded in an expressionless fashion.