"Well, suppose I leave that entirely to you. I can't by any chance get
a large stein of Munchener beer?"

"No, sir, I am sorry. I can get you some French beer though, which we
think is much better. You know that Admiral Fisher has got those
Dutchmen bottled up so tight that they tell me the beer won't froth
any more in Germany." And he burst into a roar of laughter in which he
was joined by a chorus of adoring customers sitting about at the
different tables.

Edestone sat down while the proprietor in person took his order to the
kitchen. In a very short time, the man returned and put down before
him a _gemuse suppe_, following this with _schweine fleisch,
sauerkraut_, and _gherkins_--a luncheon which might have been
cooked in a German's own kitchen--and set before him a glass of beer
which Edestone would have sworn had not been brewed outside of the
city of Munich.

The proprietor bustled about, laughing and cracking clumsy jokes with
everyone who would listen to him, and his jokes seemed to Edestone to
be almost as German as his beer. In this way he finally worked over to
where Smith was sitting, and as he pretended to arrange something on
the table whispered sharply: "Go to the lavatory."

Smith, unable to eat, sat toying with his food. He gulped his beer as
if it choked him. He turned around several times to look at Edestone,
but the latter after his perfunctory greeting took no further notice
of him. At last, paying his check, the man walked to the rear of the
restaurant and into a small, dark, badly ventilated room under the
stairs. The place was so dimly lighted that he could scarcely see in