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Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I

25

The pub was now crowded, as he expected it would be, the layers of smoke thicker, the Bavarian music louder. The manager greeted him pleasantly, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts: Something had happened to this American within the last hour. Noel was embarrassed; he wondered if his face was scratched, or streaked with dirt.

"I'd like to wash up. I had a nasty fall."

"Certainly. Over there, sir." The manager pointed to the men's room.

"Professor Kessler has arrived. He's waiting for you. I gave him your briefcase."

"Thanks again," said Holcroft, turning toward the door of the washroom.

He looked at his face in the mirror. There were no stains, no dirt, no blood. But there was something in his eyes, a look associated with pain and shock and exhaustion. And fear. That's what the manager had seen.

He ran the water in the basin until it was lukewarm, doused his face and combed his hair and wished he could take that look out of his eyes. Then he returned to the manager, who led him to a booth at the rear of the hall, farthest from the room's activity. The red-checked curtain was drawn across the table.

"Herr Professor?"

The curtain was pulled aside, revealing a man in his midforties with a large girth and a full face framed by a short beard and thick brown hair combed straight back over his head. It was a gentle face, the deep-set eyes alive, tinged with anticipation, even humor.

"Mister Holcroftr

"Dr. Kesslerr,

"Sit down, sit down." Kessler-made a brief attempt to rise as he held.out his hand; the contact between his stomach and the table prevented it. He laughed and 265

266 THE HOLCROFT COVENANT

Page 146

The Holcroft Covenant

looked at the pub's manager. "Next weekl Ja, Rudi? Our diets."

"Ach, natfirlich, Professor."

"This is my new friend from America. Mr. Holcroft."

"Yes, we met earlier."

"Of course you did. You gave'me his briefcase." Kessler patted Noel's attach6 case, next to him on the seat. "I'm drinking scotch. Join me, Mr.

Holcroft?"

"Scotch'Il be fine. Just ice."

The manager nodded and left. Noel settled back in the seat. Kessler exuded a kind of weary warmth; it was an expression of tolerance from an intellect constantly exposed to lesser minds but too kind to dwell on comparisons.

Holcroft had known several men like that. Among them were his finest teachers. He was comfortable with Erich Kessler; it was a good way to begin.

"Thanks so much for seeing me. I've got a lot to tell you."

"Catch your breath first," said Kessler. "Have a drink. Calm down."

"What?"

"You've had a difficult time. It's written all over your face."

"It's that obvious?"

"I'd say you were that distraught, Mr. Holcroft."

"It's Noel. Please. We should get to know each other."

"A pleasant prospect, I'm sure. My name is Erich. It's a chilly night outside. Too cold to go without an overcoat. Yet you obviously arrived without one. There's no checkroom here."

"I was wearing one. I had to get rid of it. I'll explain."

"You don't have to."

"I'm afraid I do. I wish I didn't, but it's part of my

91

story.

"I see. Ali, here's your scotch.

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