"Ach, a boring business.
And what have you been doing this evening?"
"I've been discussing the world situation with my landlady.
And you?
Did your affair come off?"
"I hope it came off."
In my cubby-hole it was getting devilish hot.
So I opened the curtain whenever the girl was speaking, took a quick breath of the cool air outside and closed the lid again when I myself spoke close into the microphone.
"Is there nobody among your friends called Robert?" I asked.
She laughed.
"I don't think so."
"A pity.
I should like to have heard how you pronounce it.
Won't you just try anyway?"
She laughed again.
"Just for a joke," said I. "For instance:
'Robert is an ass.'"
"Robert is a baby, and long may he be one."
"You have a wonderful pronunciation," said I. "And now let us try it with Bob.
Thus:
'Bob is—'"
"Bob is a drunkard," said the soft, remote voice slowly; "and now I must sleep—I've taken a sleeping draught and my head is singing already."
"Yes—good night—sleep well—" I put down the receiver, and pushed the coat and blanket aside.
Then I straightened up and suddenly stiffened.
Like a ghost one pace behind me stood the retired accountant who lived in the room next the kitchen.
I grunted something or other, indignantly. "Pst!" said he and grinned.
"Pst!" I responded and wished him in hell.
He raised a finger.
"I won't let on—-political, eh?"
"What?" said I astonished.
He winked.
"Don't worry.
I'm extreme Right, myself.
Secret political conversation, eh?"
I understood.
"Highly political," said I, now grinning also.
He nodded and whispered:
"Long live His Majesty!"
"Three cheers!" I replied. "But now something else: Do you happen to know who it was invented the telephone?"
Astonished, he shook his bald pate.
"Neither do I," said I, "but he must have been a wonderful chap."
Chapter IX
Sunday.
The day of the race.
Koster had been training every day the last week.
Then at night we would work on Karl into the small hours, checking every tiniest screw, oiling and putting him in order.
Now we were sitting in the pits waiting for Koster, who had gone to the starting place.
We were all there—Grau, Valentin, Lenz, Patricia Hollmann, and above all Jupp—Jupp in overalls, with racing goggles and helmet.
He was Koster's offsider, being the lightest.
Lenz had all kinds of doubts—he maintained Jupp's enormous, outstanding ears offered too much wind resistance: either the car would lose twenty kilometres in speed, or turn itself into an aeroplane.