bidding.
Ebners led with a low spade and Domagalla took the trick with the king. “Why didn’t Völlinger take it?” thought Mock. “Could it be he hasn’t got an ace?” Domagalla slapped down the ace of spades. After taking the trick he nonchalantly threw down the queen of spades. Mock closed his eyes and did not reopen them until the end of the hand.
“Four down,” Ebners summed up. “Why, for the love of God, didn’t you say ‘no bid’ with the queen of diamonds? If you had played her early, you might have won control.”
Völlinger glanced again at the window.
“I’m sorry, Mock,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t be playing here.”
“Why not?” Domagalla asked ironically. “Cosmic fluids flowing through here, are there?”
“You know nothing about these things, Domagalla. So be quiet.”
“We can change places,” Ebners suggested.
“I don’t mean my position at the table. I mean this café.”
“What are you talking about, Völlinger?” Domagalla began shuffling the cards. “We’ve played at Schaal’s often enough.”
“But usually in the back.” Völlinger pulled at his stiff, rounded collar and loosened his tie.
“I’m your partner today, Völlinger.” Mock lit a Hawaiian cigar. “I have no intention of losing vast amounts of money just because you’re out of sorts. Have you got a hangover or something? Herbert,” he turned to Domagalla, “you invited me here. Maybe you thought it would be a brilliant idea,” – he mimicked Domagalla’s falsetto – “‘We’ll give Mock an ailing partner and then share the money between the three of us.’ Is that it? You wanted to play with ‘an ass’, and the ass today was to be me.” He looked under the table. “Maybe that’s where I left my ears!”
Ebners and Domagalla burst out laughing, whereas Völlinger was a long way from sharing his friends’ mirth.
“That is a serious accusation,” he hissed. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
“Do calm down, my dear Völlinger.” Mock turned the ashtray, fastened as it was to the table, towards him. “That was only the second hand. It must have been a slip of the tongue. You should have opened one no trump, not two.”
“If we go on playing here I’m going to make even bigger mistakes. Since you have made these accusations against me, albeit jokingly, I owe you an explanation. It’s because of that house opposite. We’ve played here before, true enough, but in the back room. I couldn’t see that house from there.”
Mock looked out of the window and felt a peculiar stabbing in his diaphragm. Through the rain washing down the pane, he saw the Griffins tenement. Silence descended. Deep down, not one of Völlinger’s partners made light of his premonitions and trances. It was very often as a result of these that their investigations were brought to a successful conclusion.
“Völlinger, please, tell me more about the building and why it makes you so uneasy?” Mock had grown visibly pale. “I’m conducting an investigation into a murder committed right behind it.”
“I read about it in the paper,” Völlinger said, getting to his feet. “Forgive me, gentlemen, but I cannot stay here a moment longer.”
Völlinger bowed and went to the cloakroom.
“Too bad.” After his visit that morning to a certain young lady who had a substantial file in his own department’s archives, Domagalla was unusually understanding. “We’ll find a fourth soon enough.”
“You’ll have to find a third and a fourth,” Mock said and hurried after Völlinger, seen off by Ebners’ abuse.
The astrologer was no longer in the café. Mock opened his wallet,pressed a coin into Schaal’s hand, took his coat and hat from him and ran into the street. A gusty wind sluiced sharp needles of rain. The Counsellor unfurled his umbrella, but did not enjoy the protection it offered for long. The wind tore at it and, bending the wire spokes, turned it inside out. A man in a pale overcoat was struggling
Ebners led with a low spade and Domagalla took the trick with the king. “Why didn’t Völlinger take it?” thought Mock. “Could it be he hasn’t got an ace?” Domagalla slapped down the ace of spades. After taking the trick he nonchalantly threw down the queen of spades. Mock closed his eyes and did not reopen them until the end of the hand.
“Four down,” Ebners summed up. “Why, for the love of God, didn’t you say ‘no bid’ with the queen of diamonds? If you had played her early, you might have won control.”
Völlinger glanced again at the window.
“I’m sorry, Mock,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t be playing here.”
“Why not?” Domagalla asked ironically. “Cosmic fluids flowing through here, are there?”
“You know nothing about these things, Domagalla. So be quiet.”
“We can change places,” Ebners suggested.
“I don’t mean my position at the table. I mean this café.”
“What are you talking about, Völlinger?” Domagalla began shuffling the cards. “We’ve played at Schaal’s often enough.”
“But usually in the back.” Völlinger pulled at his stiff, rounded collar and loosened his tie.
“I’m your partner today, Völlinger.” Mock lit a Hawaiian cigar. “I have no intention of losing vast amounts of money just because you’re out of sorts. Have you got a hangover or something? Herbert,” he turned to Domagalla, “you invited me here. Maybe you thought it would be a brilliant idea,” – he mimicked Domagalla’s falsetto – “‘We’ll give Mock an ailing partner and then share the money between the three of us.’ Is that it? You wanted to play with ‘an ass’, and the ass today was to be me.” He looked under the table. “Maybe that’s where I left my ears!”
Ebners and Domagalla burst out laughing, whereas Völlinger was a long way from sharing his friends’ mirth.
“That is a serious accusation,” he hissed. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
“Do calm down, my dear Völlinger.” Mock turned the ashtray, fastened as it was to the table, towards him. “That was only the second hand. It must have been a slip of the tongue. You should have opened one no trump, not two.”
“If we go on playing here I’m going to make even bigger mistakes. Since you have made these accusations against me, albeit jokingly, I owe you an explanation. It’s because of that house opposite. We’ve played here before, true enough, but in the back room. I couldn’t see that house from there.”
Mock looked out of the window and felt a peculiar stabbing in his diaphragm. Through the rain washing down the pane, he saw the Griffins tenement. Silence descended. Deep down, not one of Völlinger’s partners made light of his premonitions and trances. It was very often as a result of these that their investigations were brought to a successful conclusion.
“Völlinger, please, tell me more about the building and why it makes you so uneasy?” Mock had grown visibly pale. “I’m conducting an investigation into a murder committed right behind it.”
“I read about it in the paper,” Völlinger said, getting to his feet. “Forgive me, gentlemen, but I cannot stay here a moment longer.”
Völlinger bowed and went to the cloakroom.
“Too bad.” After his visit that morning to a certain young lady who had a substantial file in his own department’s archives, Domagalla was unusually understanding. “We’ll find a fourth soon enough.”
“You’ll have to find a third and a fourth,” Mock said and hurried after Völlinger, seen off by Ebners’ abuse.
The astrologer was no longer in the café. Mock opened his wallet,pressed a coin into Schaal’s hand, took his coat and hat from him and ran into the street. A gusty wind sluiced sharp needles of rain. The Counsellor unfurled his umbrella, but did not enjoy the protection it offered for long. The wind tore at it and, bending the wire spokes, turned it inside out. A man in a pale overcoat was struggling
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