Part 34 (1/2)

Stuler was a good general; he could keep the students in order, watch his a.s.sistants draw beer, the Rhine wine, and the sc.u.m (dregs of the cask, muddy and strong), and eye the acc.u.mulating accounts on the slate. This slate was wiped out once the month; that is to say, when remittances came from home. The night following remittances was a glorious one both to Stuler and the students. There were new scars, new subjects for debate, and Stuler got rid of some of his prime tokayer.

The politics of the students was socialism, which is to say they were always dissatisfied. Tourists seldom repeated their visits to Stuler's.

There was too much spilling of beer in laps, dumping of pipe ash into uncovered steins, and knocking off of stiff hats.

It was in front of Old Stuler's that Maurice came to a pause. He had heard of the place and the praise of its Hofbrau and Munich beers. He entered. He found the interior dark and gloomy, though outside the sun shone brilliantly. He ordered a stein of Hofbrau, and carried it into the main hall, which was just off the bar-room. It was much lighter here, though the hall had the tawdry appearance of a theater in the day-time; and the motes swam thickly in the beams of suns.h.i.+ne which entered through the half-closed shutters. It was only at night that Stuler's was presentable.

Scarcely a dozen men sat at the tables. In one corner Maurice saw what appeared to be a man asleep on his arms, which were extended the width of the table. It was the cosiest corner in the hall, and Maurice decided to establish himself at the other side of the table, despite the present inc.u.mbent. Noiselessly he crossed the floor and sat down. The light was at his back, leaving his face in the shadow, but shone squarely on the sleeper's head.

”I do not envy his headache when he wakes up,” thought Maurice. He had detected the vinous odor of the sleeper's breath. ”These headaches, while they last, are bad things. I know; I've had 'em. I wonder,”

lifting the stein and draining it, ”who the duffer was who said that getting drunk was fun? His name has slipped my memory; no matter.” He set down the stein and banged the lid.

The sleeper stirred. ”Rich,” he murmured; ”rich, rich! I'm rich! A hundred thousand crowns!”

”My friend, I'm not in the position to dispute with you on that subject,” said Maurice, smiling. He rapped the stein again.

The sleeper raised his head and stared stupidly,

”Rich, aye, rich!” He was still in half a dream. ”Rich, I say!”

”Hang it, I'm not arguing on that,” Maurice laughed.

The other swung upright at this, his round, oily face sodden, his black eyes blinking. He threw off the stupor when he saw that it was a man and not the shadow of one.

”Who the devil are you?” he asked, thickly.

Maurice seldom forgot a face. He recognized this one. ”Oho!” he said, ”so it's you, eh? I did not expect to meet you. Happily I had you in mind. You are not employed at present as a porter at the Grand Hotel? So it is you, my messenger!”

”Who are you and what are you talking about? I don't know you.”

”Wait a moment and I'll refresh your memory.” Maurice theatrically thrust a cigar between his teeth and struck a match. As the flame illumined his features the questioner started. ”So you do not recognize me, eh? You haven't the slightest remembrance of Herr Hamilton and his sprained ankle, eh? Sit down or I'll break your head with this stein, you police spy!” dropping the bantering tone.

The other sat down, but he whistled sharply; and Maurice saw the dozen or so rise from the other tables and come hurriedly in his direction. He pushed back his chair and rose, his teeth firmly embedded in the cigar, and waited.

”What's the trouble, Kopf?” demanded the newcomers.

”This fellow accuses me of being a spy and threatens to break my head.”

”O! break your head, is it? Let us see. Come, brothers; out with this fellow.”

Maurice saw that they were about to charge him, and his hand went to his hip pocket and rested on the b.u.t.t of the revolver which the Colonel had given him. ”Gentlemen,” he said, quietly, ”I have no discussion with you. I have a pistol in my pocket, and I'm rather handy with it. I desire to talk to this man, and talk to him I will. Return to your tables; the affair doesn't concern you.”

The intended a.s.sault did not materialize. They scowled, but retired a few paces. They saw the movement toward the hip pocket, and they noted the foreign twist of the tongue. Moreover, they did not like the angle of the speaker's jaws. They shuffled, looked questioningly at one another, and, as if all of a single mind, went slowly back to their chairs. Kopf grew pale. Indeed, his pallor was out of all proportion with the affair, which Maurice took to be no more than a comedy.

”Brothers,” he said, huskily, ”he will not dare.”

”Don't you doubt it for a moment,” interrupted Maurice, taking out the revolver and fondling it. ”Any interference will mean one or more cases for the hospital. Come, I'm not the police,” to Kopf. ”I am not going to hurt you. I wish only to ask you a few questions, which is my right after what has pa.s.sed between us. We'll go to my hotel, where we shan't be disturbed.”

Together they left the hall. As they pa.s.sed through the bar-room Stuler looked questions, but refrained from asking them. Maurice put away the revolver. As they went out into the street he drew Kopf's arm within his own.

”What do you want?” asked Johann, savagely.

”First. What is your place in this affair?”