He did not
appear to eat; the food simply vanished from the plate; it was absorbed
like a mist before the wind. While the others were barely growing
settled in their places, Jansen was already through.
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, produced Durham and papers,
and proceeded to light up. Lawlor, struggling still to re-establish
himself in the eyes of Bard as the real William Drew, seized the
opportunity to exert a show of authority. He smashed his big fist on
the table.
"Jansen!" he roared.
"Eh?" grunted the Swede.
"Where was you raised?"
"Me?"
"You, square-head."
"Elvaruheimarstadhaven."
"Are you sneezin' or talkin' English?"
Jansen, irritated, bellowed: "Elvaruheimarstadhaven! That's where I was
born."
"That's where you was born? Elvaru--damn such a language! No wonder you
Swedes don't know nothin'. It takes all your time learnin' how to talk
your lingo. But if you ain't never had no special trainin' in manners,
I'm goin' to make a late start with you now. Put out that cigarette!"
The pale eyes of Jansen stared, fascinated; the vast mouth fell agape.
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