“Justus must speak!” exclaimed Bunzel; “he can take the opportunity of putting to rights that dislocated hip.”
“As you will,” said Justus; “there is something here that requires setting to rights undoubtedly, of which your empty heads would never think.”
“Silence there! Hear! hear! Silence!” thundered the artists.
“Bravo! bravo! da capo!” shrieked the young men.
“I think once will be enough, gentlemen,” said Justus, who was already mounted on the chair.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I come before you as a boy before his schoolmaster. For though it is only proper that we artists should express our thanks for the kindness shown to us, I am neither the eldest nor the youngest amongst us, neither the one who has the greatest merit with regard to this beautiful house, nor perhaps the one amongst us who has sinned most with regard to it; but as I am here, I offer in all our names my most grateful thanks for your goodness, and as I feel by no means steady on this rickety pedestal, and as I have learnt from my predecessors—”
“Bravo! bravo!” exclaimed the artists.
“That if one wishes to leave this place one must first look out for a successor, but feel that in this way the matter would never come to an end, I have chosen for the purpose a person who is not in this company; and I ask you to give a cheer for him, who has already spoken himself today, and has spoken to my heart, and, I know, to the hearts of many in this company; and to give a second cheer for him, because it would ill become this company if a word were spoken against him here, as has been done, without an answer being forthcoming from amongst us; and a third cheer, and long life to him who requires three lives in order to carry out the herculean labour he has undertaken!”
Justus drew up his slender figure, and his clear voice sounded like a trumpet:
“Long live Edward Lasker!”
And his “Hip! hip! hurrah!” resounded in shouts from the artists, whilst the astonished opponents remained silent, and all who had been shocked at the previous offensive words, and they were many, cheered with them, and the music sounded in the midst, so that the whole room shook, and old Baroness Kniebreche shrieked out to Baroness Holzweg, “I really believe I can hear again with both ears!”
The storm was still raging when Anton, the valet, came up to Philip, who stood shrugging his shoulders and trying to smooth matters amidst a group of gentlemen who were all talking to him at once, with violent gesticulations, hoping and expecting that he would properly resent and punish such a public insult. Anton must have had something very urgent to say, as he pulled his master repeatedly by the sleeve, and dragged him almost by force out of the group.
Philip’s face had got very red, but at the first words which the servant, as he unwillingly bent towards him, whispered in his ear, it became white as ashes. He now himself hastily drew the man a few paces farther on one side.
“Where is the gentleman?”
“He is close at hand, in the billiard-room,” answered Anton; “here is his card.”
The servant was as pale as his master, and brought the words out with difficulty from between his chattering teeth.
“Anyone with him?”
“They are in the vestibule and out in the street and in the court—oh, sir, sir!”
“Hush! Will you help me?”
“Willingly, sir.”
Philip whispered a few words into the man’s ear, who then went hastily through the room into the vestibule, from which, unchecked, he disappeared, through a door, into the cellar regions. Philip stood there for a few minutes, his firm lips tightly compressed, and his fixed eyes bent on the floor. He had not expected this; he had hoped to have had at least another week’s law. The devil must have prompted Lübbener. However, the great haul must in the end have failed, and he had got the ready money, at any rate, provided; but he must venture it! If he could only get out of the house, they must be more than cunning—he had had everything prepared for weeks in case of this happening. As he again lifted his gloomy eyes, his glance encountered Lübbener’s, who, only a few paces off, apparently in eager conversation with the Councillor and some other gentlemen, had closely observed the short scene between the master and servant, and, as the former stepped back to the group, now turned his back upon him.
“Excuse me for a few minutes, gentlemen,” said Philip; “I have still some arrangements to make for the cotillon, and then, if you please, we will leave the table.”
He said it in his usual loud and swaggering tone, whilst at the same time he caught Lübbener by the wrist, as if in an overflow of hilarity, and drew him out of the group.
“What do you want?” gasped Lübbener.
“To tell you,” said Philip, grinding his teeth, “that you shall pay me for this, sooner or later!”
He flung the little man from him so that he tumbled backwards into the group, and making his way through the conservatory with a firm step, passed into the billiard-room, to meet a gentleman who stood there alone with folded arms, leaning on one of the tables, and apparently studying the ornamentation of the door through which Philip entered.
“Inspector Müller?” said Philip, who still held the card in his hand.
“I have that honour,” answered the inspector, unfolding his arms so slowly that he could not well take Philip’s outstretched hand.
“And what procures me this pleasure?” asked Philip.
“The pleasure is a very doubtful one, Herr Schmidt. I have a warrant against you!”
The officer took a paper from his breast-pocket, and so held it that Philip could easily have read it by the lamp over the billiard-table; but Philip had taken up a ball, and was making a hazard.
“A warrant! How very strange! Look there! a double hazard too! Are you a billiard
