"So do I."
The chase was exciting. "Shall we overtake them? Our old nag is lame. Suppose this commoner is not of high enough rank to fight a duel with?" In that case they decided that the affair would be officially considered never to have happened.
The first carriage stopped before a nice looking house in the West End. Diederich and Hornung got to the door just as it was shut. They posted themselves with determination in front of it. It grew cold and they marched up and down in front of the house, twenty paces to the right and twenty paces to the left, always keeping the door in view and repeating the same profound and serious remark. This was a case for pistols! This time the Neo-Teutons would buy their honour dearly! Provided he was not a commoner!
At last the concierge appeared, and they consulted him. They tried to describe the two gentlemen, but found that neither of them had any special marks. Hornung maintained, even more passionately than Diederich, that they must wait, and for two more hours they marched up and down. Then two officers came out of the house. Diederich and Hornung stared, uncertain whether there might not be some mistake. The officers started, and one of them seemed to turn slightly pale. That settled the matter for Diederich. He walked up to the one who had turned pale.
"I beg your pardon, sir—"
His voice faltered. The embarrassed lieutenant replied, "You must be mistaken."
Diederich managed to say: "Not at all. I must have satisfaction. You have—"
"I don't know you at all," stammered the lieutenant. But his comrade whispered something in his ear: "That won't do," and taking his friend's card, together with his own, he handed them to Diederich. The latter gave his, and then he read:
