They,
too, wore the badge of the brotherhood--the black pin in the coat
lapel.
"Goot efening, Mr. Mortimer," said the tall man in a guttural
voice, "this is Behrend"--he indicated the young man by his
side--"you haft not meet him no?"
Then, leaving Behrend to shake hands with Mortimer, he literally
rushed at Desmond and shook him by the hand exactly as though he
were working a pump handle.
"My tear Pellward," he cried, "it is a hondred year since I haf
see you, not? And how are the powers!"
He lowered his voice and gazed mysteriously at him.
Desmond, at a loss what to make of this extraordinary individual,
answered at random:
"The powers? Still fighting, I believe!"
The tall man stared open-mouthed at him for a moment. Then,
clapping his hands together, he burst into a high-pitched cackle
of laughter.
"A joke," he yelled, "a mos' excellent joke! I must tell this to
Minna. My vriend, I haf not mean the great Powers."
He looked dramatically about him, then whispered:
"I mean, the oggult!"
Desmond, who was now quite out of his depth, wagged his head
solemnly at the other as though to indicate that, his occult
powers were something not to be lightly mentioned. He had no fear
of the tall man, at any rate. He placed him as a very ordinary
German, a common type in the Fatherland, simple-minded, pedantic,
inquisitive,, and a prodigious bore withal but dangerous, for of
this stuff German discipline kneads militarists.
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