With a sorrowful eye and a smooth face, I confess I could not confront the man I hate as strongly as his father.

You are different--you are an arch-villain--a born diplomatist who wears the very mask for this task and has no face, no compunction, no pity of his own.

Go into that house, ask for Herr Daniels--that is the Jew player's non-professional name--and see him and his daughter, perhaps, the young student, too.

Boldly proclaim your position as the Secret Intelligence Agent, by which you learned their whereabouts, and that they harbor the charitable young man who saved your life.

Touch lightly on his thumping you within an inch of it, and enlarge on your undying gratitude.
Apologize to the young lady--lay all blame on her irresistible charms and abuse a little the fair and fickle Fraulein von Vieradlers who has eloped without so much as an adieu to you! Depend upon it, Jews though they are, they will applaud your Christian forgiveness, and, I do not doubt, Frenchman though he is, young Clemenceau will give you his hand.
Dilate not at all, but urge him to leave the town without delay.