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Mr. Adolf Reiss, merchant, sits alone on a gloomy December afternoon. He gazes into the fire with jaundiced eyes reflecting on his grievance against Life. The room is furnished expensively but arranged without taste, and it completely lacks home atmosphere. Mr. Reiss's room is, like himself, uncomfortable.
"Hello, uncle!" It's a fresh young voice. Mr. Reiss grunts, slowly lowers the paper and gazes at the youth over his eyeglasses. "Oh, it's you. When did you come up?" "Just arrived, uncle. We're ordered out. I thought I'd look you up at once as there are one or two things " "Eh what?" Among Mr. Reiss's characteristics is a disconcerting habit of making people repeat their remarks.
He has a curious and at the same time a strong desire to do something now at once. He has never felt like this before. Supposing he were to A knock on the door. His servant brings in a telegram. Why do Mr. Reiss's fingers tremble so? Why does Mr. Reiss begin cleaning his glasses before he opens the envelope? He holds the pink paper under the lamp. Deeply regret to inform you.... Mr.
Reiss's servant announces some one and withdraws. Intuitively Mr. Reiss, who is rather deaf, and has not caught the name, grasps the paper and hides behind it. From long experience he has discovered the utility of the newspaper as a sort of parapet behind which he can better await attack. A slight figure in khaki advances into the room, observes the newspaper above the legs and smiles slightly.