And he had landed that morning from the Scandinavian steamer, Peer
Gynt, and, at that very moment, was standing by the bar of the Hotel
Astor, just sober enough to keep from telling everything he knew to
the bartenders, and just drunk enough to talk too much in a place
where the enemy always listens.

He said to the indifferent bartender who had just served him:

"'F you knew what I know 'bout Germany, you'd be won'ful man! I'M
won'ful man. I know something! Going tell, too. Going see 'thorities
this afternoon. Going tell 'em great secret!... Grea' milt'ry
secret! Tell 'em all 'bout it! Grea' secresh! Nobody knows
grea'-sekresh 'cep m'self! Whaddya thinka that? Gimme l'il
Hollanschnapps n'water onna side!"

Hours later he was, apparently, no drunker--as though he could not
manage to get beyond a certain stage of intoxication, no matter how
recklessly he drank.

"'Nother Hollenschnapps," he said hazily. "Goin' see 'thorities
'bout grea' sekresh! Tell 'em all 'bout it. Anybody try stop me,
knockem down. Thassa way.... N-n-nockem out!--stan' no nonsense! Ge'
me?"

Later he sauntered off on slightly unsteady legs to promenade
himself in the lobby and Peacock Alley.

Three men left the barroom when he left. They continued to keep him
in view.