"Senate—Senate! Official."
Several of the glowering army folk stood about. They took on menacing airs of importance, following the lead of their chief. An international intrigue, involving a foreign king and senate, was being rapidly unraveled. Deming was so suddenly and summarily dismissed again that he forgot to tell them proudly he was a free American citizen—with a hundred million people behind them.
He was becoming worried and consulted the experience of Miles Anderson whom he had, of course, met through Kirtley.
"In the toils of the German high police!" chuckled Anderson. "That is certainly funny."
"But what am I to do to get rid of them?" inquired Jim anxiously. "It seems I have no privacy. And I don't want to be going to the Platz all the time. Hadn't I better turn it over to our Consulate?"
"Heavens, no. American consuls won't do anything for you. They are considerably Germanic anyhow—work in with the local authorities. It's our easy-going American way. If you want anything done, go to the British or Japanese. Then you will get action. Our official attitude seems to be that an American ought not to be away from America. If he is away, he must look out for himself—has few rights abroad. The Germans respect the English and Japs for they mean business and their consular service is not to be trifled with."
"I don't want to go to foreigners—get this thing all advertised about—go to all that trouble."
"Then tell the Germans to go to hell. That's the only way to get on with Germans. They are used to being sworn at. They will quit you then. If you don't, they will keep you trotting to Headquarters for six months. If you try to be nice, try to placate them, you'll simply get into hotter water. They don't understand such things. They think they are uncovering a vast conspiracy. Cinderella Cotillion Coterie! Gad, of all the farcical happenings I have come across even in Germany!"
Deming was braced up by this advice, and if anything more came of the incident he determined to see it through with some of Anderson's good American bluff and independence.
The following morning he was plashing about in his bath tub when the door was bluntly opened and then partly closed. He faced around in amazement at the audacity of anyone boldly intruding into a bath room—the only place left in Germany for the self-respecting Naked Cult. His eyes fell upon another uniformed emissary from the Police. This one was very obsequious and bowed and scraped his excuses for the unseemly interruption.