He rang for an orderly. "The Grand Master," he commanded.
Count Augustus zu Eulenburg had evidently anticipated that he would be
wanted, as he stood waiting in the Shell Grotto, facing the park. The
walls and ceiling of this gorgeous entrance hall are clad with
semi-precious stones in their natural growth: mountain-crystal and
malachite, coral trees and amethyst rocks, agate and garnets, gold and
silver ore; presents from royal friends for the most part.
"I'll leave for Essen to-night. Wire Frau Krupp to expect me for
breakfast. The small entourage, and warn messieurs my humble servants
not to take too many lackeys. I am tired of carting their households
around."
"At Your Majesty's orders." The Marshal bowed low. Then in a whisper:
"Is Phili to be of the party?"
"Certainly not," replied the War Lord so Buelow might hear him. "Report
to me later," he added in an undertone.
"Later" the following _tripotage_ was overheard: