I would keep faith to the last.
"Herr Doktor!" I faltered.
He dashed the pencil down on the table and sprang to his feet. He caught me by the lapels of my coat and shook me in an iron grip.
"The addresses, you dog!" he said.
The clock whirred faintly. There was a knock at the door.
"Come in!" roared Clubfoot and resumed his seat.
The clock was chiming twelve.
An officer stepped in briskly and saluted.
It was Francis!... Francis, freshly shaved, his moustache neatly trimmed, a monocle in his eye, in a beautifully waisted grey military overcoat, one white-gloved hand raised in salute to his helmet.
"Hauptmann von Salzmann!" ... he introduced himself, clicking his heels and bowing to Clubfoot, who glared at him, frowning at the interruption. He spoke with the clipped, mincing utterance of the typical Prussian officer. "I am looking for Herr Leutnant Schmalz," he said.