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They have no mercy, no brains, no sense! What is a woman's reputation to them? They repeat, they they the wretches the murderers " Poons seemed to be trying to shift the blame on a number of people; it was easier for him to generalise at this moment than to answer his questioner straightforwardly. "Do they say that my wife that Madam Von Barwig neglects her home?" "Yes." "And her child?"
The unexpected had happened; his devoted follower had dared to question him. The shock almost awoke him to a sense of his surroundings, and the ghost of his old smile stole over his face as he shook his head slowly. "That's it!" he gasped. "I don't know! I don't know! It's the uncertainty that is killing me. By God, August, I'll kill him! I'll kill him!" And then Poons understood.
Finally he extracted from her a promise to suspend action in reference to Poons until she had given the matter more thought. "But in the meantime," insisted Miss Husted, "they must not speak!" Knowing the extent of their knowledge of each other's language, Von Barwig readily promised on behalf of Poons to obey her injunction to the letter, and she left the room in a state of resignation.
This appealed to Von Barwig's sense of humour, and he burst Into laughter, a laughter perilously near to tears. It never occurred to him to ask Poons what he knew or what he had heard. The fact that what was preying on his mind, his carefully guarded secret, was common property did not strike him at that moment.
Of course she sympathised with his misfortune, but thought he should have taken care of his money and not have handed it to the first person who asked for it, so that now he was a pauper. She discussed this delicate point with Mrs. Mangenborn in the strict privacy of her room, but Jenny's ears were very sharp and her sympathy went out to young Poons.
"To hell with the café," said Fico as he wrote to his employer, the proprietor of the restaurant, saying they did not intend to play that night, and could never come again. Not for me, never again," said Pinac as he indited his resignation. "À bas le café!" "I don't trouble to write at all," said Poons in German, "I simply don't go." Presently the dinner came, and what a dinner it was.
"Nein," replied Poons, who knew what she meant when he saw the book. Then he added in German that he had been so thoroughly occupied in practising that he had no time, but that he had something of great importance that he wanted to say to her. Jenny almost shook her head off trying to make it clear that she didn't understand a word he said. "Fräulein Chenny," he began again, but gave it up.
"Can I do something for you, Anton?" he asked a few moments later, as he stood at the conductor's desk. Von Barwig did not answer; and with his round face, and smiling eyes glancing appealingly at his conductor, Poons stood waiting like a little dog that patiently wags his tall in hope of his master's recognition. Presently he shook his head gravely and sighed.
"Set ye doon, Sir, hereaboot," she said, opening a solid door into the inner room; "neaver gain no fear at aw o' crackin' o' the setties; fairm, fairm anoo' they be, thoo sketterish o' their lukes, Sir. Set ye doon, your Warship; fafty poons desarveth a good room, wi'oot ony lugs o' anemees." "What a beautiful room!" exclaimed Mr. Mordacks; "and how it savors of the place!
When young Poons would thank Miss Husted for these attentions in the choicest German that lady would turn on him and tell him to mind his own business, and he would smile and bow deferentially to her, saying, "Ja, Frau Hooston." As the weeks went on, the struggle for Von Barwig to pay expenses became greater and greater.
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