“Did you ever hear of a place called the Café des Bulgars?” asked Neeland, carelessly.
“Yes.”
“What sort of place is it?”
“Like any other.”
“Quite respectable?”
“Perfectly,” said Nini, smiling. “One drinks good beer there.”
“Munich beer,” added Fifi.
“Then it is watched?” asked Neeland.
“All German cafés are watched. Otherwise, it is not suspected.”
Sengoun, who had been listening, shook his head. “There’s nothing to interest us at the Café des Bulgars,” he said. Then he summoned a waiter and pointed tragically at the empty goblets.