The Great Secret Part 46

I shook my head.

"The fatherland means little to him," I answered. "He has lived in America too long."

"You are willing to buy your own rifle?" he asked.

"I would rather not," I answered.

"We sell them for a trifle," he continued. "You would not mind ten s.h.i.+llings."

"I would rather pay nothing," I answered, "but I will pay ten s.h.i.+llings if I must."

He nodded.

"I cannot accept you myself," he said. "We know too little about you. You must attend before the committee to-night."

"Where?" I asked.

"At the Cafe Suisse," he answered. "We shall send for you! Till then!"

"Till then," I echoed, backing out of the room.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP

That night I gravely perambulated the little cafe in my waiter's clothes, and endeavored to learn from Karl my new duties. There were a good many people dining there, but towards ten o'clock the place was almost empty.

Just as the hour was striking, Mr. Kauffman, who had been dining with Mr.

Hirsch, rose from his place, and with a key in his hand made his way towards the closed door.

He was followed by Mr. Hirsch and seven other men, all of whom had been dining at the long central table, which easily accommodated a dozen or more visitors. There was nothing at all remarkable about the nine men who shambled their way through the room. They did not in the least resemble conspirators. Hirsch, who was already smoking a huge pipe, touched me on the shoulder as he pa.s.sed.

"We shall send for you presently," he declared. "Your case is coming before the committee."

I rushed towards the front door, and stood there for a few moments to get some fresh air, for the atmosphere of the room was heavy with the odors of countless dinners, and thick with tobacco smoke. I smoked half a cigarette hurriedly, and then returned. There were scarcely half a dozen guests now in the place. One of them, a stout middle-aged woman, who had been sitting at the long table, beckoned me to her. She had very dark eyes and a not unpleasant face; but she wore a hideous black sailor hat, and her clothes were clumsily designed, and flamboyant.

"Is it true," she asked, "that this restaurant has changed hands?"

"Quite true, madam," I answered.

"Are you the new proprietor?" she asked.

"I am his nephew," I told her. "He is not here this evening."

"Are you going to keep on the eighteen-penny dinner?" she asked.

"We are going to alter nothing," I a.s.sured her, "so long as our customers are satisfied."

She nodded, and eyed me more critically.

"You don't seem cut out for this sort of thing," she remarked.

"I hope I shall learn," I answered.

"Where is the proprietor?" she asked.

"He is not very well this evening," I told her. "He may be round later on."

"You do not talk like a German," she said, dropping into her own language.

"I have been in America nearly all my life," I answered in German. "I speak English more readily, perhaps, but the other soon returns."

"Get me the German papers, please," she said. "I expect my man will keep me waiting to-night."

I bowed and took the opportunity to escape. I sent the papers by one of the waiters. Madame was a little too anxious to cross-examine me. I began checking some counterfoils at the desk, but before I had been there five minutes the door of the inner room was opened, and Mr. Hirsch appeared upon the threshold. He caught my eye and beckoned to me solemnly. I crossed the room, ascended the steps, and found myself in what the waiters called the club-room. Mr. Hirsch carefully closed the door behind me.

The first thing that surprised me was, that although I had seen nine men ascend the three stairs and enter the room, there was now, besides myself and Hirsch, only one other person present. That other person was sitting at the head of the table, and he was of distinctly a different cla.s.s from Hirsch and his friends. He was a young man, fair and well built, and as obviously a soldier as though he were wearing his uniform. His clothes were well cut, his hands shapely and white. Some instinct told me what to do. I stood to the salute, and I saw a glance of satisfaction pa.s.s between the two men.

"Your name is Paul Schmidt?" the man at the table asked me.

"Yes, sir!" I answered.

"You served at Mayence?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Under?"

"Colonel Hausman, sir, thirteenth regiment."

"You have your papers?"

I pa.s.sed over the little packet which Guest had given me. My questioner studied them carefully, glancing up every now and then at me. Then he folded them up and laid them upon the table.

"You speak German with an English accent," he remarked, looking at me keenly.

"I have lived nearly all my life in America," I reminded him.

"You are sure," he said, "that you understand the significance of your request to join the No. 1 Branch of the Waiters' Union?"

"Quite sure, sir," I told him.

"Stand over there for a few minutes," he directed, pointing to the farthest corner of the room.

I obeyed, and he talked with Hirsch for several moments in an undertone.