eleven o'clock
It was his only contribution to the conversation , but it was a valuable one . Herr Von Kwarl sat at his favourite table in the Brandenburg Cafe , the new building that made such an imposing show -LRB- and did such thriving business -RRB- at the lower end of what most of its patrons called the Regentstrasse . Though the establishment was new it had already achieved its unwritten code of customs , and the sanctity of Herr von Kwarl 's specially reserved table had acquired the authority of a tradition . A set of chessmen , a copy of the Kreuz Zeitung and the Times , and a slim - necked bottle of Rhenish wine , ice-cool from the cellar , were always to be found there early in the forenoon , and the honoured guest for whom these preparations were made usually arrived on the scene shortly after eleven o'clock . For an hour or so he would read and silently digest the contents of his two newspapers , and then at the first sign of flagging interest on his part , another of the cafe 's regular customers would march across the floor , exchange a word or two on the affairs of the day , and be bidden with a wave of the hand into the opposite seat . A waiter would instantly place the chessboard with its marshalled ranks of combatants in the required position , and the contest would begin . Herr von Kwarl was a heavily built man of mature middle-age , of the blond North-German type , with a facial aspect that suggested stupidity and brutality .