The doctor peered at me over his glasses, hesitated, and then revealed
his patronym. It was Swanburger, he informed me.

"But, my dear sir, what on earth--"

"Merely," said I, with conviction, "that this isn't an Allies' night. It
is _Deutschland uber Alles_; the stars are fighting for the Teuton race.
Now, let's hear how you were christened," I added, turning to the house
detective, who looked even less sunny than before if that could be.

"See here, whatcher giving us?" snarled that somewhat unpolished worthy.
"My name's Zeitfeld; but I was born in this country, don't you forget
it, same as you."

"A great American personality," I remarked dreamily, "has declared that
in the hyphenate lies the chief menace to the United States. And
what's your name?" I asked the representative of law and order. "Is it
Schmidt?"

"No, sir," he responded, grinning; "it's O'Reilly, sorr."

"Thank heaven for that! You've saved my reason," I assured him as I
leaned against the wall and scanned the Germanic hordes.

"Mr. Ritter," said I, addressing that gentleman coldly, "when I am next
in New York I don't think I shall stop with you. The atmosphere here is
too hectic; you answer calls for help too slowly--calls, at least, in
which a guest indiscreetly tells you that he has caught a German thief.
It looks extremely queer, gentlemen. And there are some other points as
well--"