The success of my bluffing offer to marry the woman prompted some regret that the matter had not been pushed home to the point of obtaining her full confession; and it was to prove one of those disastrous blunders which come from decent motives.
I had scarcely left her before I began to see the thing clearly. It had not been difficult to persuade her, but there was von Erstein. He was not likely to believe in any readiness to marry, and would soon be able to talk her round to his view. In that case I might whistle for a confession.
All the same I had not come empty away. She had admitted the lie about "our child," and he couldn't talk that away. Moreover, it was still possible to set inquiries on foot and get the truth that way. It was all to the good that her impression of me was so favourable. There was no acting or humbug about that, and it remained to see the result. It was fairly certain that she would have little desire to carry the scheme any farther.
In the meantime what were the others thinking? Nessa had laughed at the business in the Thiergarten; but there was more than a joke in it, even when one knew the truth. Both she and Rosa would be very curious to learn what had followed, so I went to see them at once and found them all talking about it.
The Countess was shocked and very distressed. "It was such a scandal, Johann; and to happen in such a spot and with the von Gratzens there," she said.
"I need not tell you how sorry I am, aunt."
"That wasn't Johann's fault, mother," said Rosa. "He couldn't prevent the woman choosing such a public place and acting as she did."
"Why do you say choosing, Rosa? You don't imagine she expected to meet Johann there, do you? What happened after we left?" she asked me.
"My impression is that she did choose the place, aunt. I had a talk with her and afterwards saw her at her flat."
"But surely there can't be a scrap of truth in it."
"How can I say? Most emphatically I don't remember her nor a thing she told me."
"What did she tell you, Herr Lassen?" asked Nessa, her eyes twinkling. "Of course we're all anxious to hear—if you don't mind telling us, that is."
"I don't mind in the least. It's not a nice story;" and I told them as shortly as possible. Nessa had to hide her face from the Countess when I spoke of my offer of marriage, and Rosa covered her laughter under a pretence of indignation.
"You seem to have forgotten our engagement very easily, Johann!"
"Oh no. She reminded me of it; but of course she has the first claim."
"Indeed!" she cried, tossing her head.
But her mother took it seriously. "I think you were right, Johann, and I'm thankful you had sufficient manly spirit," she declared, making me feel no end of a hypocrite.
"And when are you to be married, Herr Lassen?" asked Nessa, with mischief in look and tone.
"It is not yet definitely settled."
"And your child?" chipped Rosa.
"There was a mistake there. She admitted afterwards that the child is neither hers nor mine."
"Admitted that!" exclaimed the Countess with more indignation than I thought she was capable of feeling. "Do you mean to tell us that she was brazen-faced enough to confess such a thing? She must be a regular baggage and you must be mad to think of marrying her! I never heard such a thing in all my life."
"She wasn't exactly brazen-faced when she told me, Aunt Olga. I think she was rather affected by my offer; and as an honourable man——"
"Honourable fiddlesticks, Johann! Don't talk rubbish. She's an impostor, nothing else; and I shall go to my lawyer in the morning and tell him to inform the police."
Rosa came to the rescue then. "Unless you want to get Johann into serious trouble, you won't do that, mother. You've often worried because I didn't wish to marry him, and I haven't told you the real reason; but you had better know it now. The woman's story about the sale of secret information is true. You may not remember it, Johann; but I have a couple of letters of yours in which you more than half admit it, and that it was the reason why you fled the country and never intended to come back."
"Rosa!" cried the dear old lady in deep distress. "Is that true, Johann?"
"Unfortunately, I can't say either yes or no, Aunt Olga."
"I'll get the letters," said Rosa, and she fetched them and read the portions out to us. "You can see it's his handwriting;" and she gave the letters to her mother, who glanced at them and then handed them to me.
"I don't know the writing, of course," I said. "I don't believe I could even copy it. I'm in the pothook stage still." It was a small, curiously wriggling fist, difficult to decipher, but easily identified by any one who had ever seen it. And the Countess knew it well.
"What had I better do, Johann?" she appealed.
"I leave that to you. I hope I am incapable of anything of the sort now; but if I did it, I must take the consequences."
"There is only one thing to do, mother; and that is, nothing. You don't want Johann to be shot, I suppose," said Rosa sharply.
"Don't, Rosa!"
"It's all very well to say don't; but that's what will happen if you insist on stirring this dirty water."
"But you wouldn't have him marry such a woman, child!"
"Perhaps he'd rather do even that than be shot," was the retort.
It was cruel, but effective; and after a few more words her mother gave in and went away, distressed to the point of tears.
"I'd rather have had you tell her the whole truth than grieve her like that, Rosa," I said.
"Possibly, but I wouldn't. You don't know mother, and I do. It was necessary to frighten her or she would have spread the story broadcast. I'll go and make it all right presently."
"Do you believe this story about your cousin?"
"I know it's true, and so does Oscar. He told me the moment we heard Johann was coming back."
"But he was coming back in spite of it," pointed out Nessa.
"Because of his spy work, Nessa. He was a born spy. He wormed out a lot of things in America; and the Secret Service people, seeing how good he was at the work, sent him to England and, after what he found out there, told him to come home and promised to overlook the other affair. That'll explain why I wasn't overjoyed to see you," she added to me.
I nodded. "And explain probably why von Gratzen thinks it worth while to send me back to England to recover my memory."
"Very possibly—if he really believes you've lost it, that is. Oscar says its the reason, and he ought to know. He laughed at it all; but it's no mere laughing matter."
"Better to laugh than worry," said I.
"Now tell us all about your Anna," said Nessa, who refused to consider the thing serious.
I gave them a more detailed account of the interview and answered a heap of questions about Anna, describing the change of front she had shown, the way in which she had been led to confess about the child, and my opinion that von Erstein was at the back of it.
"I shall never forget that scene in the Thiergarten to-day," laughed Nessa. "You did look so thunderstruck."
"Nothing to what I felt, I can tell you. I never felt such a fool in my life. Of course I couldn't tell whether she was in earnest or not."
"Nessa laughed and was giggling about it all the way home."
"I couldn't help it. It was so utterly ridiculous, Rosa. Her 'Oh, my long lost darling!' was just exquisite. And she did it uncommonly well."
"My laughter will have to wait till we're all out of the wood," said Rosa; "and there's a long way to go yet."
"Yours won't, will it?" Nessa asked me.
"Not a bit of it. Let's laugh while we can. But now what about the workman's card that I need?"
"Oscar's getting it," replied Rosa. "I told him to lose no time; and after this affair to-day, the sooner you're away, the easier I shall feel. It's getting on my nerves. I'd better go to mother now and calm her down."
We rose and Nessa turned to me with a mischievous smile. "You'll have me at the wedding, won't you?" she rallied.
"Whose?"
"Why yours, of course."
"Certainly. It couldn't take place without you," I replied, laughing, but with a look which made her rather sorry she'd chipped me.
"Why not?" asked Rosa stolidly. Her humour was only Teutonic. "You don't expect me to be present, I hope?"
"What do you say, Miss Caldicott?"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Rosa doesn't understand such stupid jokes. Good-night, Herr Lassen." She spoke indifferently, but there was a little pressure of the hand which sent me off home feeling mighty pleased with myself and thinking a lot more about her than the new complications, and so nearly brought me to grief.
It was a dark night, the streets were deserted, and I was plunging along castle-building on the foundation of that hand-pressure when, as I was taking a short cut through a square, a drunken man ran up behind, and lurched into me. He cursed me for getting in his way, and tried to close with me and, before I could shake him off, two others appeared, and one of them aimed a blow at my head with his stick.
Luckily there was just time for me to wriggle out of the way and let the first man have the benefit of the blow. It caught him full on the head, and down he went in a heap. The other two were so astounded by this that they hesitated long enough to give me a chance to attack in my turn. I went for the ruffian who had struck at me, bashed him under the chin hard enough to send him staggering back tripping into the gutter, and was ready for number three. But there was no fight left in him, and he bolted.
His companion in the gutter scrambled to his feet, but his stick had flown out of his hand in the fall, and the moment he found he had to deal with me alone without it, he also thought discretion safer and ran off after the other.
I turned to have a look at the drunken brute who had started the row, or rather the robbery, for that seemed to be the meaning of the affair. The blow had seemed hard enough to crack his skull; but when I examined him I saw that it had not hurt him seriously. I also discovered something which told me I had not appreciated the true purpose of the attack.
I recognized him at once. He was the fellow who had called on me that morning in the name of Rudolff.
He was able to get up and walk; shakily, it is true, for he was a good deal dazed, and I had to hold him up on the way to my rooms, which were close by. The stairs were a difficulty, but we got up somehow, and a drink of spirits and a rest soon brought him round sufficiently to talk.
"I suppose you were coming to warn me again, Rudolff, eh?" I said.
He stared stupidly at me.
"Don't try to fool me in that silly fashion, my friend. I know too much about you. So drop it, or you'll step out of this into the police station. You should choose companions who don't blab, you know."
That made him begin to sit up and take notice. "I've been drunk, haven't I?"
"No. Not too drunk to play the decoy, my man."
"Don't understand," he mumbled, shaking his head.
"All right. I haven't time to fool about with your sort. You can try that on the police;" and I rose and went to the telephone.
"Wait a bit," he cried hurriedly. "I'll try to remember things."
"Give me the nearest police station," I said into the 'phone, but without releasing the receiver.
That was enough for him. "Don't bring them here," he said with an oath. "I'll tell you all I know."
"I only want one thing. Who put you on to me? Tell me that and you can go."
He tried to lie and mentioned a name at random.
"You're only making a fool of yourself, Rudolff. Lies are no good to me. You came here this morning with a yarn which you could only have got from one man in Berlin, and I know all about it. You were in the Thiergarten this afternoon and pointed me out to you know whom I mean."
It proved a good shot and he squirmed uneasily, although trying a feeble sort of denial. "What's the use of lying?" I rapped sternly.
"I don't know what you mean," he muttered.
"We'll soon settle that."
Taking the precaution to lock the door I turned to the telephone again and asked for von Erstein's number; and after some preliminaries with some one I took to be his servant, von Erstein answered me.
"Who is it?" he asked sharply.
"Johann Lassen. Hope I haven't disturbed your packing."
"What do you want with me?"
"Nothing; I've had quite enough of you already; but there's a friend of yours here and he's in a bit of difficulty."
"What the devil are you driving at? Who is he?"
"The man you sent here to-day."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh come, that won't do. Anyhow he does, and that's enough for me." I tried to pop in the suggestion of a threat.
"What's his name?"
"You know that without my telling you; I only know what he called himself. You don't send men about the place on secret errands without knowing their names, do you?"
"Well, what does he call himself?"
"Rudolff; I don't know who he is now."
"I never heard of the man, and I've had enough of your tomfoolery."
"Just as you like. I can deal with him, of course." I heard him swear sulphurously.
"What does he want?" he growled after a pause.
"To keep out of gaol, chiefly, I fancy."
"Oh, blazes! Can't you speak plainly?"
"Yes. You see that second little practical joke you fixed up for me to-day has missed fire; he's had a crack on the head from one of your mutual friends, and I've got him here. After what he told me I rang you up to know what you'd like to do about it. As you and I are such pals, it didn't seem quite friendly to give him in charge without letting you have a chance to tell me your side. See?"
"I tell you I don't know anything about it;" angrily with an oath.
"No thoroughfare that way, my beloved."
There was no reply; he had apparently rung off. So I used the opportunity to impress friend Rudolff and lead him to understand that von Erstein had told me everything, and then hung up the receiver, paused a moment, and again pretended to call up the police station.
This was too much for the man. "What are you going to do?" he asked.
"My friend tells me that he had nothing to do with it, knows nothing about you, and that I'd better hand you over to the police."
"Who were you talking to?"
"Count von Erstein."
"Then he's a liar," he cried furiously. "He sent me here this morning so that I should know you by sight, first for that business in the Thiergarten this afternoon and then for this affair now."
"Don't tell me such lies, you murderous brute. Why, not ten minutes ago you gave me another name. Von Erstein, indeed, my friend!"
"Friend! He's no friend of yours. He's got me under his thumb for another thing and drove me to do both jobs by threatening to split on me. I can't get into the hands of the police. If you'll let me go I'll tell you all I know about it."
I shook my head and played the unbeliever till he was nearly beside himself with fright, and then told him to write down the story. This wasn't to his liking at all, but a little gentle persuasion in the shape of another pretence, with the 'phone, set him to work.
I walked up and down smoking while he wrote, glancing every now and then over his shoulder to read the result. He was not a ready penman, but he got the main facts clear enough for my purpose.
His statement was practically what he had already told me, and he added some very useful details which would help to fix it on von Erstein. But in one respect it fell short of expectation. He knew no more about Anna Hilden than his employer had told him—that I had really ruined her and that she was looking for me.
Whether he was lying or not, there were no means of deciding, and it seemed better not to question him too directly. The whole affair had shaken him up a good deal, and when he laid down the pen with a sigh he begged for another drink.
I let him have it and he gulped it down at a draught. "What are you going to do with that?" he asked, pointing to the statement.
"That wasn't in the bargain, friend cutthroat; but I'll promise you one thing, as you've seen wisdom. If I have to use it, I'll see that no harm comes to you, provided that you're ready to speak to the truth of it."
He shook his head dismally over this, and while he was hesitating, there was a nervous knock at my outer door. It flashed into my thoughts that it might be Anna Hilden. I didn't want them to meet, so I shut the room door behind me as I went out.
It was a very wild shot indeed; for the moment I pulled back the latch, the door was pushed wide and von Erstein came swaggering in.
"Where's the fellow you called Rudolff?" he demanded truculently.
My first idea was to shove him out, but it struck me that an interview between the two men might have interesting results, so I went back to the sitting-room. "Your friend's still here," I said.
Rudolff wilted at the sight of his genial employer, and as they were now two to one, both scoundrels, and capable of any violence, it was best to take precautions. Thus while von Erstein was challenging the other man to say he knew him, I crossed to a small table drawer and put my revolver in my pocket, keeping my hand on it in case of necessity.
The instant Rudolff knew that I had tricked him out of the confession he was nearly as mad as von Erstein. He couldn't well have been madder.
"A bit late, eh, beloved?" I jeered. "Had to wait for a taxi? They are rather scarce just now."
"What has this man written?"
"Just a line or two about the weather and so on."
"Let me see it."
"He can tell you, of course."
"I have a right to see it."
"Naturally. You'll see it all right—some day. What he says about atmospheric and other kinds of pressure is——"
Oaths from the two interrupted the sentence.
"Give it up," from Rudolff, and "I want to see it now," from von Erstein, came almost in the same breath.
"It pains me to disappoint such a charming pair of friends, but——" I shook my head. "Can't be done, beloved; out of the question."
"We'll see about that;" and they exchanged glances.
"Don't make asses of yourselves. One of you has a cracked pate already, and the other's so podgy that half a punch would put him out of action; so you wouldn't have a dog's chance at what I see you're thinking about."
"What do you mean, Lassen? I'm only asking to see what this man has written about me," said von Erstein, trying to fool me with an appearance of calmness, while he took his handkerchief out of the pocket of his overcoat—a suspiciously bulky handkerchief which he handled very gingerly.
"You may as well lay that thing on the table, beloved. I'm too old for that game."
He tried to laugh and suddenly grabbed the handkerchief with his left hand to free the revolver it was concealing. He bungled over it, and before he succeeded I had him covered. "I told you to put it on the table. If you lift it so much as an inch, I'll put a bullet in your head," I cried.
What a coward he was! He went as white as a sheet, tossed the weapon on to the table, and put up his hands as a shield. "Don't, Lassen. Don't do anything like that," he stammered.
I laughed, picked up his revolver, and tossed mine across to him. "That's less dangerous for you, sweetheart; it's unloaded."
Still trembling, now with more mortification than fear, however, he dropped into a chair and strafed me with fine Teutonic hate.
I turned to his companion. "Now, get out, you. Do you hear?" for he hesitated, looking to his master for orders. "It'll be bad for that head of yours if I have to chuck you out. I'll give you one minute to clear." He was no stayer and slunk out in half the time; and I followed and shut the door after him.
When I got back to the room von Erstein was on his feet also ready to go. "Oh, don't hurry away, beloved; this is an excellent chance for a pretty little love scene. Mix yourself a drink, have a cigar, and be your own cheerful sprightly self."
The scowl which greeted this was a real gem.
"What a seraphic smile! No wonder that every one loves you so and worships the ground you tread on."
"Stop it," he growled with an oath.
"Oh, you naughty darling! Did'ums," and I chucked him coyly under his fat double chin. His spasm of rage at this almost overpowered his cowardice, and he must have been within an ace of apoplexy. The blood rushed in a crimson flood to his flabby face, he clenched his fists and trembled like an aspen with the strain.
"I'm going," he mumbled thickly at last.
"Of course you are, darling; but presently." I stood with my back against the door. "I can't spare you yet. Besides, you haven't thanked me. Isn't my sweetheart grateful to his Popsy-wopsy?" I chided in a sort of Mantalini manner.
"Oh, blazes! Let me go, will you?"
"But think what I've saved you from, beloved. Why, if it hadn't been for me by this time you'd be a murderer or a thief, or both. Imagine it! The torments your tender conscience would be suffering! A murderer! My Albert!"
Another spasm of impotent rage followed, and this time, instead of cursing he groaned aloud and dropped into a chair with his hands to his head.
I locked the door then, putting the key in my pocket, took the cartridges out of his revolver, tossed it into his lap, and mixed myself a drink and lit a cigar. "Now we'll have our chat," I said, dropping the banter.
He looked up and, seeing the way to the door was free, jumped from his seat to escape; and began cursing again on finding it locked. "Are you going to stop that rot?"
"Yes, if you behave yourself; except for an occasional endearment, lest we forget how much we love one another."
"What have you got to say? Be quick about it, I want to go."
"Sit down and have a drink. It'll pull you together."
"Not here, thank you. I don't want to be poisoned."
"I didn't think of that. It's rather a good idea. I will poison you." He must be punished for that insult. I went into my bedroom and came back with a pinch of salt in a screw of paper which I opened out before him. Then I poured out his drink, put the salt into it, stirred it carefully till it had dissolved, pushed the glass across the table, and placed a chair close to the spot. "Now sit down and drink that."
"I'll see you to the devil first," he cried, trying to bluster and turning as white as a sheet.
I promptly took him by the collar of his coat and forced him into the chair and ordered him to drain the glass. His panic was pitiful. He was such a blithering ass that he never suspected I was only fooling; and was convinced I meant to kill him. The sweat of abject terror stood in beads on his forehead, he couldn't utter a word, and sat staring up at me like a paralyzed idiot.
"Drink it!" I thundered in his own bullying tones which made him jump and twitch convulsively. He made one feeble attempt to lift the glass, and then with a moan dropped back in his chair in a faint.
I was afraid at first that he was really dead; but his pulse was beating all right. It was probably just pretence; so I moved the glass out of his reach and left him to come round when he pleased. It was merely shamming, and when he thought I was far enough away, he made a grab to upset the glass.
"I think you're the biggest fool I ever met, von Erstein, but you've been punished enough for your little poison suggestion. Look here;" and I swallowed the "poison" myself. "Not enough salt even to alter the taste of it, man."
In a minute he was cursing quite as cheerfully as usual and looking just as amiable. "Well, can I go now?" he asked.
"As soon as you've answered one question. Who is Anna Hilden?"
"I don't know any more than I told you before."
"I don't mean the right one, but the mock heroine of the Thiergarten scene to-day."
"I don't know anything about her."
Taking out my card case in which I had put Rudolff's statement, I unfolded the paper and laid it on the table. "Rudolff says here——"
He tried to snatch the paper, but I whipped it up in time, leaving only the card case in his hand. "Rudolff says here that you sent him to me so that he should point me out to her this afternoon. Now then, who is she?"
"I don't know anything about her," he repeated doggedly.
"I'll help your memory. She admitted to me that it was a put-up job and that the child was neither hers nor mine. That enough for you?"
But he stuck to his denial and nothing I could say moved him. The poison farce had apparently convinced him that his life was safe and he met all my threats with the same dogged answer.
I had to give it up in the end. "Very well, then, I shall have to get the whole story out of her. The police will do it, if I can't; so that it's only a matter of a day or two. Do you still refuse to own up?"
"I tell you I know nothing about it. Wash your own dirty linen for yourself," he replied.
I unlocked the door and told him to go. His exit was very characteristic. He stepped very gingerly toward where I stood by the door, fearing I should strike him, paused when just a couple of yards away, then darted out quickly, opened the front door, shook his fist at me and snarled out a threat. "I'll make you pay a heavy price for all this, curse you," he cried and bolted down the stairs as I made a step after him.
Except that he had been thoroughly frightened and enraged to the point of collapse, the interview had yielded little satisfaction. It was not improbable, moreover, that it had been a blunder to warn him about Anna Hilden. As for his threats, they were just laughable; but he might be able to strengthen the woman's backbone and cause her to persist in the story she had acted.
That the whole business was faked, there was no doubt at all; and if she did persist, it would only be necessary to set inquiries about her on foot. It might be as well to do that before seeing her again, as it would be a big trump card to face her with some of her own life history.
There was something to go on in the shape of Rudolff's statement; but it didn't amount to much. In all probability von Erstein would see to it that the man was got out of the way; and the mere paper itself could not carry the least weight with a soul.
Reflection suggested one exception, however. Von Gratzen might take a different view of it, if I told him frankly the whole affair. He had urged me to go to him in any trouble; and if he was not a fraud, he could help me enormously.
He would certainly want to hear from me all about the inner meaning of the scene his wife and daughter had witnessed, and it would be best to see him as soon as possible. He hated von Erstein, moreover, and might be glad to find something against him.
The next morning there was a note from him asking me to see him at his office at eleven o'clock, as he had some important news for me. Not a mere official summons this time; and this was rather a good sign.
It was to be hoped that the "important news" had to do with my leaving Berlin. The delay was irksome. Things were happening which threatened to make it more and more difficult for me to disappear without causing more fuss than would be healthy for either Nessa or myself. It all tended to force one's hand; and I began to think seriously of resorting to the "third wheel" Nessa and I had discussed together.
Von Gratzen received me with all the usual cordiality, shook hands warmly, and immediately referred to the Thiergarten affair, taking the line which I had half expected.
"My wife and Nita told me all about it, and of course it settles one point satisfactorily. It places beyond doubt that you are really Johann Lassen. Nevertheless I could wish it had been established in a less dramatic and embarrassing fashion for you."
"It was exceedingly unpleasant, sir."
"Tell me all about it."
I described it from my point of view; making much of my profound astonishment and my inability to say whether the story was true or not.
"Have you any reason to doubt it? Did you remember anything which enabled you, I mean?"
"Not a thing. So far as I know, I never saw the woman before in all my life."
"But she was positive?"
"She embraced me and called me her 'long lost darling,' and so on."
"Women are hysterical creatures, we know, and apt to make any sort of statement at such moments. Do you think she was really in earnest? Of course it's important."
"Your people could judge that as well as I, sir."
"True. Which would you rather it was—true or false?"
"False, without a question."
"Despite the fact that it establishes your identity?"
"Certainly. Any man who feels as I do now must loathe to have such a brutal thing as that dug up out of his past."
"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that." He smiled as if he was really glad, but there was something else behind his questions that left me guessing as usual.
If he accepted the woman's recognition as settling the matter of my identification as Lassen, was it better to leave it there or risk unsettling him again by telling him about the subsequent interview with her? Rather a nice point to decide. But his next question cleared the course and concealment kicked the beam.
"You'd like to have the matter investigated?"
"Certainly," I replied promptly. Very few official inquiries would give him the truth, and it was thus much better to tell it myself. "I was going to ask your advice about it. I know that part of her story is false; she owned it; and I doubt all the rest;" and I described the interview.
This appeared to both interest and amuse him, especially my instant offer to marry Anna; and he expressed his appreciation in the equivocal fashion. "It was clever, my boy; quite the best line. You must have had considerable experience in bluffing people;" and there was a glint in his keen eyes which might have meant anything. "You can act well too, or you'd never have dragged that confession out of her. She must have thought you were in earnest."
"I was, sir. If she can prove that I am the man she thinks, I will marry her."
"Good. Very good indeed.Ifshe can prove it, of course. But you wouldn't relish the job, eh?"
"That goes without saying."
"Well, we'll hope she can't. We shall soon know all about her. In the meantime what are you going to do?"
"I can only wait and see."
He laughed and rubbed his hands. "Wait and see, eh? That's the English Premier's phrase, isn't it? So you've picked that up, it seems."
His comment made me wish I'd used a different one. "There isn't anything else to do, sir."
"Quite so. Wait and see. Exactly. And as an honourable man you'd prefer to get the question settled before leaving Berlin?"
The shrewd old beggar was a positive expert in sticking one in a hole. I didn't know what answer to make, so I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled vacuously.
"It's rather a pity, too," he continued after a pause. "I've arranged that matter of your leaving; in fact I intended you to go to-day. I have all the necessary papers, even tickets for you and Miss Caldicott;" and he took them out of his desk and laid them in front of me, giving me one of those wily smiles of his.
I could have cursed the luck. The sight of them, the knowledge that Nessa and I could have been out of the infernal country within a few hours but for this rotten thing coming in the way, so exasperated me that it was scarcely possible to conceal my bitter chagrin. I tried to hide it from him by taking the papers and looking them over.
"Oh dear, I've forgotten something," he exclaimed, rising. "I'll be back in a moment," and he went out of the room.
What a temptation that was! To have all I needed actually in my hands; to be left alone with them and yet not to be able to use them! I'd have given every shilling I had in the world to have stuffed them into my pocket and walked off. Did he mean me to take them? Or was it intended as a test? Did he guess what a temptation it was? Could I get away with them? He stopped out of the room long enough, and as the minutes passed, it was all I could do to resist it.
But I stuck it; put the papers down on his desk and tried not to look at them. It was a touch of sheer purgatory. His first glance, when at length he returned, was at them, and the way he looked at me made me pretty certain that he could guess something of my feeling. It looked uncommonly as if he were disappointed to find me still in the room and the papers on his table.
"I'm sorry to have kept you, my boy, but it couldn't be helped," he said as he sat down and put the temptation out of sight. "I told you in my letter that I had something important to tell you. I have, and unpleasant into the bargain. Was Count von Erstein with you last night?"
"Yes, about ten o'clock."
"Did you offer him some drink?"
"Yes, and a cigar, but he refused both."
"What was he doing there? Wait, I'll tell you first that he has made a charge against you that you attempted to poison him."
I laughed. "Of course I didn't. It was a joke."
"It may not be altogether a laughing matter; he's a dangerous man to joke with. Would you care to tell me about it all?"
"Of course. This will explain a good deal." I put my hand in my waistcoat pocket for Rudolff's statement, and then for the first time missed the card case which Rosa had given me. The loss was of no consequence, however, as I had the fellow's confession. "Before I give it you I ought to say that I promised the man who wrote this that if he was prepared to swear to the truth of it, he should come to no harm."
"That'll be all right," he agreed with a nod.
"An attempt was made on my life last night by this fellow and two others at von Erstein's instigation;" and I described the affair and all that had occurred subsequently.
"Ah, more clever bluff, eh? Upon my word I shall be expecting you to try it with me next," he said. Then he read over the confession carefully and lapsed into thought. Long and apparently anxious thought it was, too.
"I'll stand by you, my boy. I believe your story implicitly and I know von Erstein. But it was a bad mistake. He has a lot of influence in many directions. I hope you'll hear no more of it; but it was a bad blunder." He paused and, in a different and lighter tone and with a very peculiar look and a shadow of a smile, added: "It makes me almost wish you had taken advantage of my absence just now to get away with those tickets."
What on earth could one make of such a statement? If he'd given me another chance I'd have taken it; but he didn't. He locked the tickets up and sent me away, saying he would look into my affairs at once and send for me as soon as there was any need.
It is difficult to describe my feelings when I left von Gratzen, but I think my chief thought was a bitter regret that I hadn't taken the tickets and chanced things, mingled with a disquieting belief that I was muddling matters hopelessly.
Neither regret nor self-cursing were of the slightest help, however; and after a few minutes of impotent perplexity, I realized that extremely obvious fact.
Something had to be done; and the question was—what?
It looked as if von Gratzen would have let me have those tickets if I hadn't been ass enough to tell him about Anna and play the fool about being eager to have that affair cleared up first. He had not appeared to attach sufficient importance to the poison charge to refuse them on that account.
This cleared the ground a little, therefore. Could the obstacle be removed in time to allow of my using them that night? Could I get the confession from Anna herself, this meant? It was worth trying.
She had fixed the following day for me to see her; but that wasn't a good enough reason for my not seeing her at once. My natural eagerness to have the thing settled without delay would readily account for my disregarding her wish, and whether it did or not didn't matter two straws. So I set off on the errand at once.
Persuasion was the first card to play, and if that failed, a threat of the police; but by one means or another I must have the confession to take to von Gratzen that afternoon. Everything now turned on getting it into his hands early enough for Nessa and me to catch the Dutch mail which left about eight that night.
She had her hat on when I arrived, and resented the visit. "I said you were not to come until to-morrow," she said. "I can't see you now, as I'm just going out."
"I could not wait till to-morrow. I can't bear suspense."
"I've nothing to say to you, so it's no use your coming in."
"But I'm in already, Anna, and I must speak to you." She tried to avoid me and leave the place, but I shut the door and stood with my back to it.
"Very well. Go into the sitting-room and I'll listen."
"I'll follow you," I replied drily; and with a laugh and a shrug she led the way to her room.
"You seem almost as eager to marry me now as you were before to get out of it," she scoffed.
It was an unpromising start, for she was in a very different mood from that of the previous day. "If you think a moment of all that this must mean to me, of my desperate anxiety to know the truth about the past and to see what lies ahead, you'll understand it all, Anna;" and I went on for a few moments in that style endeavouring to re-establish the former relations and work on her emotions.
"I haven't had enough time to think about it," she replied. "Of course it takes a lot of thinking about."
"Does that mean you are not sure I am the man who wronged you?"
"Why should it, pray?"
"Well, you said that you had been mistaken about the child."
"I may have said that for a purpose. You got the soft side of me yesterday, and—— But I tell you I haven't made up my mind."
"You haven't altered your opinion about my being an honourable man and wishing to do the right thing, I hope?" and I did my best to draw a vivid picture of my state of mind and appeal to her good nature.
This appeared to have a softening effect; but not enough for the purpose. "Why does one day make such a difference?"
"Every minute makes a difference, Anna. I am on the rack and it's positive torture to prolong this suspense."
"I'm sorry. I am really; but I can't make up my mind. If you could do without me all these years, another day can't matter so much. Not that I can see."
"If you had lost your memory, you'd understand."
"But that was only a week or two ago. What of all the other time, the years and years you've left me to fend for myself?"
"I can't account for that," I said, as if distracted.
"You hadn't lost your memory all that time, however."
"The shock of the explosion has utterly changed me in every way."
"It was about time, I should think, judging by all I've heard and the way you treated me. I don't deny you're a white man enough now; but what if you got your memory back? It might change you into something very different. I have to think of that, you know. You might be mad enough to—to do anything; perhaps even murder me. You're not surprised it makes me think, are you? I don't wish to be made into an honest woman only to be murdered."
This was altogether so different from her previous attitude, that it was clear some one had been coaching her; and of course it could only be von Erstein. "You need not fear that, Anna."
"Why not? How do you know what you'd be mad enough to do if you got your memory back and found you'd tied yourself to me?"
"There's a very simple way out of that. Even if you wish me to marry you, we need not live together. I should give you an allowance and you could go your way and I mine, if you preferred it."
For some reason which beat me this seemed to appeal strongly to her. She sat thinking, and there was something of her previous day's emotion in her look as she asked: "Do you mean that?"
"You little know me if you doubt it, Anna."
She got up impulsively to stare out of the window as she had done before, and after a long pause she turned. "Look here, come to-morrow."
I looked intently at her and read something in her face that gave me fresh hope. "Why not to-day? You have made up your mind, I can see that; so why not tell me now?"
She shook her head. "Not to-day. To-morrow."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you why. Don't ask me."
"But I do ask you. I beg you as earnestly as I can."
Another shake of the head; and she would not budge, so that it became necessary to try a turn of the screw.
"Your reason has to do with some one else?"
"What do you mean?" she flashed in surprise and some alarm.
"I had a visit yesterday from a man who called himself Rudolff."
"Well? What's that got to do with it?"
"With two companions he tried to murder me."
She caught her breath. "Is that true?"
"As you see, the attempt failed and the man himself got the blow intended for me. I took him to my rooms afterwards and—well, here's his confession."
Her interest was keen enough to quicken her breathing as I took out the paper; and her fright deepened as I read it, and she began to tremble violently. "As you hear, he was the man who pointed me out to you yesterday in the Thiergarten."
For a few moments she was too overcome to speak. "What—do you—think it all means?" she stammered brokenly.
"Do you know Count von Erstein?"
Her hand went to her throat as she tried to reply, making a swallowing, half-choking motion. "You don't believe—that I had anything—to do with all that?"
"Oh no, Anna. I am sure you had not. I have told the authorities——"
"The police?" she broke in. It was almost a scream.
"Not the police. But, of course, a man can't let any one attempt his life and just sit down under it. I have a very influential friend——" I paused intentionally.
"Who is that?" came like a pistol shot.
"Baron von Gratzen; and he——"
"Did you tell him about me?"
"He knows of it. He is greatly interested in me because this unfortunate affair about my treatment of you will affect all he can do for my future. His wife and daughter were present yesterday when you recognized me. Of course he questioned me all about it and declared that he would have the fullest investigation made at once."
That seemed to break her right up. Von Gratzen's reputation caused the collapse. She had stiffened in alarm at the mention of his name, had listened with parted lips and straining features to every syllable about his interest in me, and when she knew that his people were going to take up the investigation, she was utterly overcome.
With a muffled cry of despair, she fell back in her chair in a half-fainting condition, her hands pressed to her face, moaning distractedly. She remained in this state for several minutes, the effort to regain self-control being quite beyond her, and at length sprang to her feet, saying she must go out at once.
"You'd better tell me everything before you go, Anna," I said. Knowing that she had been driven into the deception by von Erstein, I pitied her sincerely. She was like a wild thing in her panic, shaking her head and flourishing her arms hysterically.
"No, no. To-morrow."
"It may be too late then. I have great influence with the Baron and can put the matter to him in a way to help you. It will be useless to try that to-morrow."
"Not now. Not yet. I can't. I can't. Let me go. Let me go, I say!"
I persisted, however; and at length she consented to my seeing her again that afternoon at five o'clock. I had to be content with that, and as soon as we reached the street she hurried off.
She was going to von Erstein of course, and I would have given something to be able to hear what passed. She was in deadly fear of him. Her manner had shown that; and considering what the man was, her news would probably give him an equally bad attack of nerves. He would not relish von Gratzen's intervention any better than she had.
On the whole the interview had turned out well enough. It would have been better if I had been able to drag the truth out of her at once, of course; but I was confident that I should get it all in the afternoon. That would still give me time to carry the news to von Gratzen and satisfy him that the obstacle to my leaving was removed.
The "third wheel" must none the less be in working order. Nessa must be prepared to leave, and I went to the Karlstrasse to see her. She was out with Lottchen, however, and I only saw Rosa, who was delighted to hear that von Gratzen had arranged for us to leave.
"It's very lucky, too, because Oscar has left Berlin for a day or two without having been able to do anything about the other scheme. You won't need it now, of course."
"I wish I was sure; but I'm not. Von Gratzen may still raise some objection; things are so mixed up. But I mean to go to-night in any event, with or without his permit. Rotten luck that Feldmann's away."
"He was afraid you might do something like that, so he gave me the name of a man who can do what you want, but I wasn't to tell you about it unless it was absolutely necessary."
"It is necessary, as you can see for yourself. Who's the man and what is he? I'll go to him straight off."
"David Graun is the name; he lives at 250, Futtenplatz. He's a Jew; a very shady character, and Oscar said you'd have to be awfully careful how you handled him."
"Where's the Futtenplatz?"
"It's in a low quarter across the river;" and she told me how to find it. "Oscar says he bears the worst of characters and does all sorts of shady things under the cloak of a second-hand clothes' dealer."
"He's sure that the man can get me what I want?"
"Oh yes; positive, if you handle him right; but you must be awfully cautious. He'll ask much more at first than he expects."
"He's a Jew, of course."
"It isn't only that. It's his way of testing any one who goes to him. If you agree to pay it, you won't get anything out of him except promises. Oscar said I'd better tell you this to put you on your guard; and you mustn't let him think it's for yourself under any circumstances."
"Do you know how much I ought to pay him?"
"Only a few marks, ten or fifteen at the outside. He'll probably ask a hundred or even more."
"I understand. But it's odd that Feldmann should know all this about him."
She smiled. "That's what I thought, and Oscar said I might tell you the real reason. The fact is this Graun works with the police. He got into trouble once and they made things easy for him on his promise to act as their spy. There's a lot of this false identification card business done, and he reports every transaction to them, and they are able to watch all the people who go to him. When any one is wanted, they give him a description, and he just keeps the man waiting while he communicates with them."
"That's cheerful. He'll tell them about me, then."
"Oscar says you needn't worry about it. So long as any one is not known to be an alien or a criminal, nothing happens; but you're to be careful to get the things at once."
"I don't quite see why."
"I didn't quite understand it, either. Oscar only told me at the last minute just as he was hurrying away. I fancy he said something about a second visit being risky, lest the man should have one of the police there to have a look at you."
"I'll be off then. Tell Nessa I'll see her as soon as possible and tell her everything."
"Oh, I do hope you'll get away safely. If the Baron lets you have the permit and tickets, I'll never say another word against him as long as I live," she declared as we shook hands.
"It will be all right one way or the other."
"Yes; but if you could really travel by the mail a few hours would end everything. I shall be so anxious."
"Of course your mother mustn't know anything about Nessa leaving."
"She's in bed, after yesterday's upset. So that will be all right."
"Not really ill?"
"Oh, no; only a bad headache. Nessa and I are booked for a concert this evening, and I shall tell the servants not to sit up for us, so that she won't be missed till to-morrow morning; and by that time you two ought to be in Holland;" and with that I set off to interview the tricky old Jew in the Futtenplatz.