Then the second sat down in
his vacant place.
'Well?' asked Greif. 'Is it all settled.'
'Yes. The cattle wanted to fight you first. I said the Philistine
insisted--excuse me, no offence. Good. Now--that was all.'
The second buried his nose in a foaming tankard.
'Is it for to-morrow morning?' asked Rex calmly.
'Palmengarten, back entrance, four sharp.'
'What do you mean?' asked Greif. 'Are we to fight in the Palmengarten,
in the restaurant?'
The second nodded, and lighted his pipe.
'Poetic,' he observed. 'Marble floor--fountain playing--palm trees in
background.' 'Then we must go there at that hour so as not to be
seen?'
'The Poodle thinks it is at Schneckenwinkel, and is going out by the
early train to lie in wait,' chuckled the burly student.
'There he will sit all the morning like a sparrow limed on a twig.'
'Have we any other pairs?' asked Greif absently.
'Three others. Two foxes and Hollenstein. He is gone to bed and I am
going to send the foxes after him. We can make a night of it, if you
like.'
'I will stay with you,' said Rex, who seemed jovially inclined.
Neither Greif nor the second thought it their business to suggest that
their combatant had better get some rest before the battle. When two
o'clock struck, Rex was teaching them all a new song, which was not in
the book, his clear strong voice ringing out steadily and tunefully
through the smoky chamber, his smooth complexion neither flushed nor
pale from the night's carousal, his stony eyes as colourless and
forbidding, as his smile was genial and unaffected.
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