That night I gravely perambulated the little cafÉ in my waiter's clothes, and endeavored to learn from Karl my new duties. There were a good many people dining there, but towards ten o'clock the place was almost empty. Just as the hour was striking, Mr. Kauffman, who had been dining with Mr. Hirsch, rose from his place, and with a key in his hand made his way towards the closed door.

He was followed by Mr. Hirsch and seven other men, all of whom had been dining at the long central table, which easily accommodated a dozen or more visitors. There was nothing at all remarkable about the nine men who shambled their way through the room. They did not in the least resemble conspirators. Hirsch, who was already smoking a huge pipe, touched me on the shoulder as he passed.

"We shall send for you presently," he declared. "Your case is coming before the committee."

I rushed towards the front door, and stood there for a few moments to get some fresh air, for the atmosphere of the room was heavy with the odors of countless dinners, and thick with tobacco smoke. I smoked half a cigarette hurriedly, and then returned. There were scarcely half a dozen guests now in the place. One of them, a stout middle-aged woman, who had been sitting at the long table, beckoned me to her. She had very dark eyes and a not unpleasant face; but she wore a hideous black sailor hat, and her clothes were clumsily designed, and flamboyant.

"Is it true," she asked, "that this restaurant has changed hands?"

"Quite true, madam," I answered.

"Are you the new proprietor?" she asked.

"I am his nephew," I told her. "He is not here this evening."

"Are you going to keep on the eighteen-penny dinner?" she asked.

"We are going to alter nothing," I assured her, "so long as our customers are satisfied."

She nodded, and eyed me more critically.

"You don't seem cut out for this sort of thing," she remarked.

"I hope I shall learn," I answered.

"Where is the proprietor?" she asked.

"He is not very well this evening," I told her. "He may be round later on."

"You do not talk like a German," she said, dropping into her own language.

"I have been in America nearly all my life," I answered in German. "I speak English more readily, perhaps, but the other soon returns."

"Get me the German papers, please," she said. "I expect my man will keep me waiting to-night."

I bowed and took the opportunity to escape. I sent the papers by one of the waiters. Madame was a little too anxious to cross-examine me. I began checking some counterfoils at the desk, but before I had been there five minutes the door of the inner room was opened, and Mr. Hirsch appeared upon the threshold. He caught my eye and beckoned to me solemnly. I crossed the room, ascended the steps, and found myself in what the waiters called the club-room. Mr. Hirsch carefully closed the door behind me.

The first thing that surprised me was, that although I had seen nine men ascend the three stairs and enter the room, there was now, besides myself and Hirsch, only one other person present. That other person was sitting at the head of the table, and he was of distinctly a different class from Hirsch and his friends. He was a young man, fair and well built, and as obviously a soldier as though he were wearing his uniform. His clothes were well cut, his hands shapely and white. Some instinct told me what to do. I stood to the salute, and I saw a glance of satisfaction pass between the two men.

"Your name is Paul Schmidt?" the man at the table asked me.

"Yes, sir!" I answered.

"You served at Mayence?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Under?"

"Colonel Hausman, sir, thirteenth regiment."

"You have your papers?"

I passed over the little packet which Guest had given me. My questioner studied them carefully, glancing up every now and then at me. Then he folded them up and laid them upon the table.

"You speak German with an English accent," he remarked, looking at me keenly.

"I have lived nearly all my life in America," I reminded him.

"You are sure," he said, "that you understand the significance of your request to join the No. 1 Branch of the Waiters' Union?"

"Quite sure, sir," I told him.

"Stand over there for a few minutes," he directed, pointing to the farthest corner of the room.

I obeyed, and he talked with Hirsch for several moments in an undertone.
Then he turned once more to me.

"We shall accept you, Paul Schmidt," he said gravely. "You will come before the committee with us now."

I saluted, but said nothing. Hirsch pushed away the table, and, stooping down, touched what seemed to be a spring in the floor. A slight crack was instantly disclosed, which gradually widened until it disclosed a ladder. We descended, and found ourselves in a dry cellar, lit with electric lights. Seven men were sitting round a small table, in the farthest corner of the place. Their conversation was suspended as we appeared, and my interlocutor, leaving Hirsch and myself in the background, at once plunged into a discussion with them. I, too, should have followed him, but Hirsch laid his hand upon my arm.

"Wait a little," he whispered. "They will call us up."

"Who is he?" I asked, pointing to the tall military figure bending stiffly down at the table.

"Call him Captain X," Hirsch answered softly. "He does not care to be known here!"

"But how did he get into the room upstairs?" I asked. "I never saw him in the restaurant."

Hirsch smiled placidly.

"It is well," he said, "my young friend, that you do not ask too many questions!"

The man whom I was to call Captain X turned now and beckoned to me. I approached and stood at attention.

"I have accepted this man, Paul Schmidt, as a member of the No. 1 Branch of the Waiters' Union," he announced. "Paul Schmidt, listen attentively, and you will understand in outline what the responsibilities are that you have undertaken."

There was a short silence. The men at the table looked at me, and I looked at them. I was not in any way ill at ease, but I felt a terrible inclination to laugh. The whole affair seemed to me a little ludicrous. There was nothing in the appearance of these men or the surroundings in the least impressive. They had the air of being unintelligent middle-class tradesmen of peaceable disposition, who had just dined to their fullest capacity, and were enjoying a comfortable smoke together. They eyed me amicably, and several of them nodded in a friendly way. I was forced to say something, or I must have laughed outright.

"I should like to know," I said, "what is expected of me."

An exceedingly fat man, whom I had noticed as the companion of the lady upstairs in the sailor hat, beckoned me to stand before him.

"Paul Schmidt," he said, "listen to me! You are a German born?"

"Without doubt," I answered.

"The love of your fatherland is still in your heart?"

"Always!" I answered fervently.

"Also with all of us," he answered. "You have lived in America so long, that a few words of explanation may be necessary. So!"

Now this man's voice, unimpressive though his appearance was, seemed somehow to create a new atmosphere in the place. He spoke very slowly, and he spoke as a man speaks of the things which are sacred to him.

"It is within the last few years," he said, "that all true patriots have been forced to realize one great and very ugly truth. Our country is menaced by an unceasing and untiring enmity. Wherever we have turned, we have met with its influence; whatever schemes for legitimate expansion our Kaiser and his great counsellors may have framed have been checked, if not thwarted, by our sleepless and relentless foe. No longer can we, the great peace-loving nation of the world, conceal from ourselves the coming peril. England has declared herself our sworn enemy!"

A little murmur of assent came from the other men. I neither spoke nor moved.

"There is but one end possible," he continued slowly. "It is war! It must come soon! Its shadow is all the time darkening the land. So we, who have understood the signs, remind one another that the Power who strikes the first blow is the one who assures for herself the final success!"

Again he was forced to pause, for his breath was coming quickly. He lifted his long glass, and solemnly drained its contents. All the time, over its rim, his eyes held mine.

"So!" he exclaimed, setting it down with a little grunt of satisfaction. "It must be, then, Germany who strikes, Germany who strikes in self-defence. My young friend, there are in this country to-day 290,000 young countrymen of yours and mine who have served their time, and who can shoot. Shall these remain idle at such a time? No! We then have been at work. Clerks, tradesmen, waiters, and hairdressers each have their society, each have their work assigned to them. The forts which guard this great city may be impregnable from without, but from within—well, that is another matter. Listen! The exact spot where we shall attack is arranged, and plans of every fort which guard the Thames are in our hands. The signal will be—the visit of the British fleet to Kiel! Three days before, you will have your company assigned to you, and every possible particular. Yours it will be, and those of your comrades, to take a glorious part in the coming struggle! I drink with you, Paul Schmidt, and you, my friends, to that day!"

He took a drink, which he seemed sorely to need. If any enthusiasm was aroused by his speech to me, if that was really what it had been, it was manifested solely by the unanimity and thoroughness with which all glasses were drained. A tumbler of hock was passed to me, and I also emptied it. Captain X then addressed me.

"Paul Schmidt," he said, "you know now to what you are committed. You are content?"

"Absolutely," I answered. "Is it permitted, though, to ask a question?"

"Certainly, as long as it does not concern the details of our plans.
These do not concern you. You have only to obey."

"I was wondering," I remarked, "about France!"

Captain X twirled his fair moustache.

"It is not for you," he said, "to concern yourself with politics. But since you have asked the question, I will answer it. The far-reaching wisdom of our minters has been exerted to secure the neutrality of England's new ally."

My ponderous friend handed a paper to me across the table.

"See," he said, "it is the order for your rifle, and your ticket of membership. Hirsch!"

Hirsch nodded and took me by the arm. A moment later I descended the three steps into the restaurant, which was now almost deserted.