“Lehr, we were informed, was to go personally and get those papers.... Do you really wish to help us?”
“Certainly.”
“Very well. I expect we shall have what you call a mix-up. You will please, therefore, walk into Grogan’s—not by the family entrance, but by the swinging doors on Lexington Avenue. Kindly refresh yourself there with some Munich beer; also eat a sandwich at my expense, if you care to. Then you will give yourself the pains to inquire the way to the wash-room. And there you will possess your soul in amiable patience until you shall hear me speak your name in a very quiet, polite tone.”
Barres, recognising the familiar mock seriousness of student days in Paris, began to smile. Renoux frowned and continued his instructions:
“When you hear me politely pronounce your name, mon vieux, then you shall precipitate yourself valiantly to the aid of Monsieur Souchez and myself—and perhaps Monsieur Alost—and help us to hold, gag and search the somewhat violent German animal whom we corner inside the family entrance of Herr Grogan!”
Barres had difficulty in restraining his laughter. Renoux was very serious, with the delightful mock gravity of a witty and perfectly fearless Frenchman.
“Lehr?” inquired Barres, still laughing.
“That is the animal under discussion. There will be a taxicab awaiting us——” He turned to Souchez: 264 “Dis, donc, Emile, faut employer ton coup du Pêre François pour nous assurer de cet animal là.”
“B’en sure,” nodded Souchez, fishing furtively in the side pocket of his coat and displaying the corner of a red silk handkerchief. He stuffed it into his pocket again; Renoux smiled carelessly at Barres.
“Mon vieux,” he said, “I hope it will be like a good fight in the Quarter—what with all those Irish in there. You desire to get your head broken?”