“No?” repeated Herr Lebermann, in a tone of surprise. “This is the way I generally see you come. Where have you been, then?”
Apparently the judge was deaf.
“Seems to me you generally come from court at this time of day,” persisted Herr Lebermann; “Ah, I see, you don’t care to tell me,” he added pleasantly, “but I know all about it just the same!”
“If you know it there’s no need of asking,” growled the judge.
“And now you’re on your way home,” remarked Herr Lebermann, with the blissful serenity of a man who has accomplished his purpose of knowing all about the aims and intents of other people. “I’ll walk along with you a bit. I am always out for a constitutional at this time of day!”
“That’s a wise thing to do!” remarked Herr Schwarz with fatal indifference.
“And when I get home I eat my sandwich,” the apothecary confidentially informed him; “only one, you know, so as not to take away my appetite for dinner! By the way, that reminds me—how does it agree with you to dine so much later?”
The judge gave him a scathing look. “How do you know that I dine later than usual?” he asked indignantly.
“You see, your cook is the sister of our maid, and she told her about it. You dine at half-past two, don’t you?”
“Sometimes,” cried the irritated judge, struggling to control his temper; “here we are at my house—good morning, Herr Lebermann!”