"Ach wass! Three volumes! It is nothing. Here iss material for thirty!—A lifetime iss too short to know all the secrets of a single species.... If I may inquire, sir, of what pattern is your most interesting and admirable rifle?"
"A—Ross," said Brown, startled into a second's hesitation.
"So? And, if I may inquire, of what nationality iss it, a R-r-ross?"
"It's a Canadian weapon. We Americans use it a great deal for big game."
"So?... And it iss also by the Canadian military employed perhaps, sir?"
"I believe," said Brown, carelessly, "that the British Government has taken away the Ross rifle from the Canadians and given them the regulation weapon."
"So? Permit—that I examine, sir?"
Brown did not seem to hear him or notice the extended hand—blunt-fingered, hairy, persistent.
The Professor, not discouraged, repeated: "Sir, bitte darf ich, may I be permitted?" And Brown's eyes flashed back a lightning shaft of inquiry. Then, carelessly smiling, he passed the Ross rifle over to the Herr Professor; and, at the same time, drew toward him that gentleman's silver-mounted weapon, and carelessly cocked it.
"Permit me," he murmured, balancing it innocently in the hollow of his left arm, apparently preoccupied with admiration at the florid workmanship of stock and guard. No movement that the Herr Professor made escaped[pg 54] him; but presently he thought to himself—"The old dodo is absolutely unsuspicious. My nerves are out of order.... What odd eyes that Fritz has!"