“See Mike?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go and eat.”

“I won’t eat downstairs with that German head waiter. He was damned snotty when I was getting Mike upstairs.”

“He was snotty to us, too.”

“Let’s go out and eat in the town.”

We went down the stairs. On the stairs we passed a girl coming up with a covered tray.

“There goes Brett’s lunch,” Bill said.

“And the kid’s,” I said.

Outside on the terrace under the arcade the German head waiter came up. His red cheeks were shiny. He was being polite.