"But in the meantime...." I objected.
"I place you as waiter with a friend of mine who is kind to poor fellows like yourself. Your brother was with him."
"But I want to be free to move around."
"Impossible," the Jew answered firmly. "You must get into your part and live quietly in seclusion until the enquiries after you have abated. Then we may see as to what is next to be done. There you are, a fine set of papers and a safe, comfortable life far away from the trenches—all snug and secure—cheap (in spite of the danger to me), because you are a lad of spirit and I liked your brother ... ten thousand marks!"
I breathed again. Once we had reached the haggling stage, I knew the papers would be mine all right. With Semlin's money and my own I found I had about £550, but I had no intention of paying out £500 straight away. So I beat the fellow down unmercifully and finally secured the lot for 3600 marks—£180.
But, even after I had paid the fellow his money, I was not done with him. He had his eye on his perquisites.
"Your clothes will never do," he said; "such richness of apparel, such fine stuff—we must give you others." He rang the bell.
The old man-servant appeared.
"A waiter's suit—for the Linien-Strasse!" he said.
Then he led me into a bedroom where a worn suit of German shoddy was spread out on a sofa. He made me change into it, and then handed me a threadbare green overcoat and a greasy green felt hat.