And he sent for his bill, also the carriage that was
to take him to the harbor, to the steamer for Copenhagen. Then he went
up to his room and sat down at the table, sat quietly erect, resting
his cheek on his hand and looking at the table with unseeing eyes.
Later on he paid his bill and got his effects ready. At the designated
time the carriage was announced, and Tonio Kroeger went down-stairs in
readiness to go.

Below, at the foot of the stairs, the elegant gentleman in black was
waiting for him.

"Your pardon," he said, thrusting back either cuff into its sleeve with
the little finger ... "Excuse me, sir, that we must still claim a
minute of your time. Mr. Seehaase, the owner of the hotel, begs for a
very brief conversation with you. A mere formality ... He is back
yonder ... Will you have the goodness to go with me ... It is _only_
Mr. Seehaase, the owner of the hotel."

And he led Tonio Kroeger with gestures of invitation toward the back
part of the vestibule. There the owner of the hotel was indeed
standing. Tonio Kroeger knew him by sight from his youth. He was
short, fat, and bow-legged. His cropped side-whiskers had grown
white; but he still wore a Tuxedo of wide cut and in addition a small
green-embroidered velvet cap. Nor was he alone. Near him, at a small
writing-desk fastened to the wall, stood a helmeted policeman, whose
gloved right hand rested on a curiously bescribbled piece of paper that
lay before him on the desk, and whose honest soldier-face looked at
Tonio Kroeger as if he expected that the latter must sink into the
ground at sight of him.

Tonio Kroeger looked from one to the other and applied himself to
waiting.

"You come from Munich?" asked the policeman at last with a good-natured
and ponderous voice.

Tonio Kroeger assented.

"You are traveling to Copenhagen?"

"Yes, I am on the way to a Danish seashore resort."

"Seashore?--Well, you must show your papers," said the policeman,
uttering the last word with particular satisfaction.

"Papers ..." He had no papers. He drew out his pocketbook and looked
into it; but besides some bills there was nothing in it but the
proof-sheets of a story, which he had intended to correct at his
journey's end. He was not fond of dealings with officials and had never
had a passport filled out ...

"I am sorry," he said, "but I have no papers with me."

"Oh," said the policeman ... "None at all?--What is your name?"

Tonio Kroeger answered him.