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Yet Von Behrling carried himself quietly enough during those first few minutes after his entrance into the restaurant. He handed his hat and coat to the vestiaire, he straightened his tie before the mirror, and although he made his way directly to the table where the two men were seated, he did so without undue haste, even with a certain amount of dignity. Matresser, tense and nerved for immediate action, watched in vain for any suspicious movement upon his part. Besserley's right hand had stolen swiftly into his hip pocket, as the hand of any good American would when the life of his friend was threatened. Drama, however, seemed likely to be at least postponed. Von Behrling came to a standstill in front of their table, and his words were simple and direct.
"Lord Matresser," he said, "I have come to offer you a certain explanation. Your friend, General Besserley, permits me, I hope, to introduce myself formally. I am that unfortunate Prince von Behrling who presented himself, uninvited, at the Conference some days ago."