Haase with his bullet head,
Francis, sadly musing on the cafe verandah ... and Monica, all in white,
as I saw her that night at the Esplanade ... my thoughts always came
back to her, a white and pitiful figure in some dusty courtyard at
lamplight facing a row of levelled rifles....
"I am waiting!"
Clubfoot's voice broke stridently upon the silence.
Should I tell him the truth now?
It was three minutes to the hour.
"Come! The two addresses!"
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.
"He is not in," answered Clubfoot in a surly voice. "He is out and I am
busy ... I do not wish to be disturbed."
"As Schmalz is out," the officer returned suavely, advancing to the
desk, "I must trouble you for an instant, I fear. I have been sent over
from Goch to inspect the guard here. But I find no guard ... there is
not a man in the place."
Clubfoot angrily heaved his unwieldy bulk from his chair.
"Gott im Himmel!" he cried savagely. "It is incredible that I can never
be left in peace. What the devil has the guard got to do with me? Will
you understand that I have nothing to do with the guard! There is a
sergeant somewhere ... curse him for a lazy scoundrel ... I'll ring ..."
He never finished the sentence. As he turned his back on my brother to
reach the bell in the wall, Francis sprang on him from behind, seizing
his bull neck in an iron grip and driving his knee at the same moment
into that vast expanse of back.
The huge German, taken by surprise, crashed over backwards, my brother
on top of him.
It was so quickly done that, for the instant, I was dumbfounded.
"
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