towing facilities on the river. See? . . . Well--there's always an
ear at the keyhole--isn't there? In fact," he lowered his tone
confidentially, "in this case a good friend of mine; a man you can see
here any evening; only they conversed rather low. Anyhow my friend's
certain that Falk was trying to make all sorts of excuses, and old
Mr. Siegers was coughing a lot. And yet Falk wanted all the time to be
married too. Why! It's notorious the man has been longing for years to
make a home for himself. Only he can't face the expense. When it comes
to putting his hand in his pocket--it chokes him off. That's the truth
and no other. I've always said so, and everybody agrees with me by this
time. What do you think of that--eh?"

He appealed confidently to my indignation, but having a mind to annoy
him I remarked, "that it seemed to me very pitiful--if true."

He bounced in his chair as if I had run a pin into him. I don't know
what he might have said, only at that moment we heard through the half
open door of the billiard-room the footsteps of two men entering from
the verandah, a murmur of two voices; at the sharp tapping of a coin on
a table Mrs. Schomberg half rose irresolutely. "Sit still," he hissed at
her, and then, in an hospitable, jovial tone, contrasting amazingly with
the angry glance that had made his wife sink in her chair, he cried very
loud: "Tiffin still going on in here, gentlemen."

There was no answer, but the voices dropped suddenly. The head Chinaman
went out. We heard the clink of ice in the glasses, pouring sounds, the
shuffling of feet, the scraping of chairs. Schomberg, after wondering in
a low mutter who the devil could be there at this time of the day, got
up napkin in hand to peep through the doorway cautiously. He retreated
rapidly on tip-toe, and whispering behind his hand informed me that