They all laughed and the editor smiled humbly.
"His Majesty has described your type," said Diederich. "Well, come and sit down."
He poured out champagne for him, and Rothgroschen drank it gratefully. He looked round in a cool but shy manner at the company, whose self-consciousness had been greatly heightened by the empty bottles which lay on the ground. They soon forgot him. He waited patiently till somebody asked him how he had blown in there in the middle of the night. "I had to make the paper ready," he explained with an air of importance. "To-morrow morning you will want to read in the paper all about the workman who was shot."
"We know that better than you," cried Diederich. "You have to write it up like a starving penny-a-liner."
The editor smiled apologetically and listened dutifully while they all related at the same time what had happened. When the noise subsided he continued: "As that gentleman there—"
"Dr. Hessling," said Diederich sharply.
"Rothgroschen," murmured the editor. "As you mentioned the name of the Emperor just now, it will interest these gentlemen to know that he has made another proclamation."
"I will not stand any joking!" shouted Diederich. The editor bowed and placed his hand on his heart. "There is a letter from the Emperor."
"I suppose," Diederich asked, "that could only have reached your desk through some infamous betrayal of confidence." Rothgroschen extended a deprecating hand. "The Emperor himself has designed it for publication. You'll read it to-morrow in the newspapers. I have a proof here."
"Go ahead, Doctor," the major ordered. Diederich cried: "What is that? Doctor? Are you a Doctor?" But no one was interested in anything but the letter. They snatched the proof from the editor's hand. "Hurrah!" cried Jadassohn, who could still read without much difficulty. "His Majesty has definitely identified himself with the Christian Church."
