Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 9, 2025
So I made use of his cupidity to leave a message for the man who, I hoped, would be coming after me, wrote that line on the wall under the Boonekamp poster in that filthy hovel where we slept and came up here after a job I had heard of at the Café Regina. "And now, Des, old man," said my brother, "you know all that I know!" "And Clubfoot?"
Then he said: "Boonekamp!" "Boonekamp?" I echoed stupidly. "That's the word," the little Jew chuckled, laughing at my dumbfounded expression, "and, if you want to know, I understand it as little as you do." "But ... Boonekamp," I repeated. "Is it a man's name, a place? It sounds Dutch. Have you no idea? ... come, I'm ready to pay." "Perhaps ..." the Jew began. "What? Perhaps what?"
As I undressed at night, I often used to stare at this placard, wondering what connection Boonekamp could possibly have with my brother. I determined to take the first opportunity of examining the card itself. One morning, while Otto was out in the queue at the butcher's, I slipped away from the cellar to our sleeping-place and, lighting my candle, took down the card and examined it closely.
These days of dreary squalor would have been unbearable if it had not been for my elucidation of the word Boonekamp, which was said to hold the clue to my brother's address. On the wall in the cubby-hole where I slept was a tattered advertisement card of this apéritif for such is the preparation proclaiming it to be "Germany's Best Cordial."
Kore nudged me with his elbow. "We'll take a Boonekamp each, Haase," he said. Kore presently retired to an inner room with the man in shirt-sleeves, whom I judged to be the landlord, and in a little the flaxen-haired lady at the bar beckoned me over and bade me join them.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking