With a last outburst of cheering the crowd broke and dispersed, like a vast theatre audience.  On all sides were expressions of joy and satisfaction.  “Excellent, wunderschoen!” “He calls us dogs!  That’s splendid.  Swine!  Did you hear him say ‘Swine’?  This is true German Government again at last.”

Then just for a moment the burly figure reappeared on the balcony.

“A last word!” he called to the departing crowd.  “I omitted to say that all but one of the leaders of the late government are already caught.  As soon as we can lay our thumb on the Chief Executive rest assured that he will be hanged.”

“Hurrah!” shouted Boobenstein, waving his hat in the air.  Then in a whisper to me:  “Let us go,” he said, “while the going is still good.”

We hastened as quickly and unobtrusively as we could through the dispersing multitude, turned into a side street, and on a sign from the count entered a small cabaret or drinking shop, newly named, as its sign showed, the Glory of the British colonies cafe.

The count with a deep sigh of relief ordered wine.

“You recognized him, of course?” he said.

“Who?” I asked.  “You mean the big working-man that spoke?  Who is he?”

“So you didn’t recognize him?” said the count.  “Well, well, but of course all the rest did.  Workingman!  It is Field Marshal Hindenburg.  It means of course that the same old crowd are back again.  That was Ludendorf standing below.  I saw it all at once.  Perhaps it is the only way.  But as for me I shall not go back:  I am too deeply compromised:  it would be death.”

Boobenstein remained for a time in deep thought, his fingers beating a tattoo on the little table.  Then he spoke.

“Do you remember,” he said, “the old times of long ago when you first knew me?”

“Very well, indeed,” I answered.  “You were one of the German waiters, or rather, one of the German officers disguised as waiters at McConkey’s Restaurant in Toronto.”

“I was,” said the count.  “I carried the beer on a little tray and opened oysters behind a screen.  It was a wunderschoen life.  Do you think, my good friend, you could get me that job again?”

“Boobenstein,” I exclaimed, “I can get you reinstated at once.  It will be some small return for your kindness to me in Germany.”

“Good,” said the count.  “Let us sail at once for Canada.”

“One thing, however,” I said.  “You may not know that since you left there are no longer beer waiters in Toronto because there is no beer.  All is forbidden.”

“Let me understand myself,” said the count in astonishment.  “No beer!”

“None whatever.”

“Wine, then?”

“Absolutely not.  All drinking, except of water, is forbidden.”

The count rose and stood erect.  His figure seemed to regain all its old-time Prussian rigidity.  He extended his hand.