an arm-chair a big man in an overcoat was sitting.

He had a heavy square face and a clubfoot.




CHAPTER X

A GLASS OF WINE WITH CLUBFOOT


I walked boldly into the room. All sense of fear had vanished in a wave
of anger that swept over me, anger with myself for letting myself be
trapped, anger with my companion for his treachery.

Schmalz stood at my elbow with a smile full of malice on his face.

"There now!" he cried, "you see, you are among friends! Am I not
thoughtful to have prepared this little surprise for you? See, I have
brought you to the one man you have crossed so many hundreds of miles of
ocean to see! Herr Doktor! this is Dr. Semlin. Dr. Semlin: Dr. Grundt."

The other had by now heaved his unwieldy frame from the chair.

"Dr. Semlin?" he said, in a perfectly emotionless voice, _une voix
blanche_, as the French say, "this is an unexpected pleasure. I never
thought we should meet in Berlin. I had believed our rendezvous to have
been fixed for Rotterdam. Still, better late than never!" And he
extended to me a white, fat hand.