Queries and answers were going crisscross over the table, when I
observed with dread that Lieutenant von Störer had risen and was coming
our way. He stopped at Max's side. Max looked up to receive Von
Störer's glove full on the cheek. It was no gentle stroke. Von Störer
at once returned to his table and sat down.
For a moment we were all absolutely without power of motion or of
speech, Max's face grew as white as the table-cloth, and the print of
the glove glowed red against the white. I was horrified, for I knew
his tremendous strength. If he showed fight, Von Störer would calmly
saber him. It was the custom. But Max surprised me. He was the
coolest among us, but of that quality of coolness which did not
reassure me. He took up his story where he had left off and finished
it. For his remarkable control I could have taken him in my arms and
hugged him.
The officers scowled, while Von Störer bit his mustache nervously. The
American had ignored his insult. Presently he rose again and
approached. He thrust a card under Max's nose.
"Can you understand that?" he asked contemptuously.
Max took the card, ripped it into quarters and dropped these to the
floor. Then, to my terror and the terror of those with me, he
tranquilly pulled out a murderous-looking Colt and laid it beside his
plate. He went on talking, but none of us heard a word he said. We
were fearfully waiting to see him kill some one or be killed.
No one was killed. The officers hurriedly took down their sabers and
made a bee-line for the door of which I have spoken.
Max returned the revolver to his hip-pocket and gave vent to an Homeric
laugh.
"You tow-headed Dutchman!" I cried, when I found voice for my words,
"what have you done?"
"Done? Why, it looks as if we had all the downs this half," he replied
smartly. "Oh, the gun isn't loaded,"--confidentially.
Ellis fumbled in his pockets and produced his passports and tickets.
These he shoved over to Max.
"What's this for?" Max asked curiously.
"Ellis," said I, "it is very good of you. Max, take those. Mr. Ellis
wishes to save your hide. Take them and get to the station as quickly
as you can. And for the love of mercy, do not turn around till you're
over in Doppelkinn's vineyards."
"Well, I'm hanged if I understand!" he cried. "I'm a peaceful man. A
beggar walks up to me and slaps me in the face for nothing at all, and
now I must hike, eh? What the devil have I done now?"