A funny little two-seated car was purring before the door, and I guessed this was also the telegraph office.
I marched in and told my story to a stout woman with spectacles on her nose who was talking to a young man.
'It is too late,' she shook her head.

'The Herr Burgrave knows that well.

There is no connection from here after eight o'clock.

If the matter is urgent you must go to Schwandorf.' 'How far is that ?' I asked, looking for some excuse to get decently out of the shop.
'Seven miles,' she said, 'but here is Franz and the post-wagon.

Franz, you will be glad to give the gentleman a seat beside you.' The sheepish-looking youth muttered something which I took to be assent, and finished off a glass of beer.