On the way to the Futtenplatz I made up a little fairy tale to account for my visit to the Jew, Graun. I didn't like the job, and what Rosa had told me about his relations with the police didn't make it any pleasanter.
A very little knowledge of German police ways was enough to render it quite credible. It was just the sort of low cunning which would chime with their methods. There were plenty of people, besides aliens, who were anxious to get out of Berlin at such a time, and it would suit the authorities admirably to have this secret means of finding out who they were and acting accordingly.
Rosa's description of the Futtenplatz was well deserved: a squalid, dirty place, with mean shops of the poorest sort. The Jew's second-hand clothes shop was one of the meanest and dirtiest, and Graun himself fitted thoroughly into the picture.
When I entered he was bargaining with a man who wanted to sell him a coat, and while the transaction proceeded—while the old Jew was beating down the price to the last pfennig, that is—I had ample time to observe him.
Red-haired, with red tousled beard and whiskers, pronounced Hebraic features, small suspicious eyes, and filthy from the top of his narrow forehead to the tip of his clawlike finger-nails, he was one of the most repulsive specimens one could wish to avoid.
"What do you want?" he asked in a high-pitched rasping voice, squinting at me, when his customer went out, cursing him for the smallness of the amount he had received for the coat.
I told him straight out. The remembrance of Feldmann's tips was one reason, and my desire not to stop one unnecessary moment in such unsavoury surroundings was another.
He shook his head. "You've come to the wrong shop, my man. Given up all that sort of thing long ago. Too risky."
"All right; sorry to have troubled you. Good-day," I replied casually, and turned to leave.
He let me get to the door and then called me back. "Wait a moment. Who sent you here?"
"No one in particular. It's pretty well known, isn't it? Good-day."
"Here, wait. Come here; I know some one who might be able to do it for you."
I didn't go back. "It isn't of the least consequence," I said with an airy wave of the hand. "I told the man he'd better go to the police and just tell them how he lost his card."
"Come in here a minute;" and he shuffled off to a door at the back of the shop.
I hesitated, took a couple of paces toward him, stopped and shook my head. "No. I don't want to have anything to do with it, if there's any risk attached to it, as you say."
This worked all right. "When I said that, I thought you wanted it for yourself," he said slily.
I burst out laughing and turned again as if to go away. "Good-day, my friend. That's rich and no mistake."
"Here, don't be in such a hurry," he said, coming a step toward me. "If your friend's in any trouble, I might——"
"What the devil do you mean by that?" I cried, and cursed him royally for the suggestion.
He came up and laid his filthy claw on my sleeve. I shook it off with another choice epithet or two. "Come into my room a minute and we'll talk it over. Don't lose your temper."
I allowed myself to be pacified: not too quickly, of course; and with a great show of reluctance allowed him to take me into his room, which was, if possible, filthier even than the shop and smelt vilely.
"Now, tell me all about it. Of course most of those who come to me are in trouble of some sort or other and I have to be careful. If the police knew anything, well——" and he gestured to indicate the trouble it would mean for him.
"All right, but don't try that rot with me. Either you can sell me what I've asked for, or you can't. So out with it. I don't care which way it is; and this place of yours stinks so that I don't want to stop in it and be suffocated."
He leered as if this were rather a good joke or a compliment. "I might be able to manage it, but——"
I broke in with an impatient oath. "I don't want any 'might be.' Can you or can't you? Be quick about it, too. If you can, how much?" This was evidently the right line with him and he grinned appreciatively.
"That's the way to talk. Shall we say 150 marks?"
"How much?" I cried with a regular spasm of astonishment. "Say it again, man."
"A hundred and fifty marks."
I sat back and stared at him. "Do you think I want to deal wholesale and set up in the business myself? I only want one, you infernal old humbug;" and I roared with laughter.
He was accustomed to being abused and joined in the laugh, combing his tousled red beard with his filthy fingers. "Well, how much then?"
"Oh, a couple of marks or so."
He threw up his hands, gesticulating violently, as if the offer was an insult, appeared to work himself into a furious rage, and fumed and fussed and stormed, until I got up. Again he tested me; let me leave the room and reach the door of the shop, following with a mixture of lamentations and appeals to Heaven to bear witness to my lunacy.
I did not so much as turn round, remembering Feldmann's caution, and I was all but in the street, before he changed his tone, apparently satisfied that I was sincere.
"It's no use to part like this. Come back and talk it over again." Once more a similar pantomime was played; but this time I was much slower to give way. "It can't be done at the price. Impossible. Think of the risk I should——"
"Then don't do it. I tell you if you mean there's any risk in the thing, I won't touch it with a ten-foot pole. I thought a few marks was all that would be necessary; but if you offered to give it me for nothing and there's any risk I wouldn't take it. Get that into your head."
"Do you think I give things away?"
"Not I, seeing how you cling to the dirt on you."
This was also accepted as a joke and he wagged his head and winked. "It takes too much time to clean things; and time's money," he replied, with one of his repulsive leers. "But I like you. You say what you mean. I'll take a hundred marks from you."
"Will you? You'll be cleverer than I take you for, if you do."
"But there's the——" He was going to repeat about the risk, but checked the word as bad business; and a long chaffering began in which he tried to squeeze me first to seventy-five marks, then to fifty, coming down by tens and fives to twenty-five.
He stuck at that point a long time; and lest he should think even that sum suspicious, I held out at the five marks to which I had increased my offer during the bargaining.
Once more he let me all but leave the shop, and when he again called me back I refused to go and struck out a fresh line.
"I'll tell you why I've stopped so long as it is, Graun," I said. "I've never met any one quite like you before, and you're a very interesting character. I do something at times in theatricals and you're worth studying; but I've had enough of you now. It's been worth a few marks to have such a chance as this, and, while I don't care two straws whether I get what brought me here or not, I'll give you five marks for the fun I've had," and to his consummate astonishment I put the money in his dirty palm. "If I were you, I'd spend it on soap or something that will get rid of some of this beastly stink."
"You give me this?" he cried in amazement.
"Yes, give it you. Good-day."
It was the turning point of the conference. He clawed hold of my arm. "You can come and study me any time you like at the same price," he said with a grin. "I don't mind how often. And look here, you shall have the card if you'll make it ten marks."
"Another five, do you mean?"
"Oh, no. Oh, no. Another ten," he cried greedily.
I shook my head at first and then smiled. "I tell you what I'll do. I'll give you the other ten, if you'll throw in another cursing and lamentation scene, like the last. Five for that and five for the card. You do it so beautifully, Graun; and it's all put on, I know."
He grinned, but shook his head. "It wasn't put on."
"You're a dirty, stinking, money-grabbing Jew, Graun," I cried, with every appearance of fierce earnestness.
He seemed to take it as meant, and he did repeat the cursing scene with the utmost energy and wild gesticulation, to my intense amusement.
"It wasn't quite so good as the first, Graun, but it's worth the money all the same. Here you are; get me the card. I believe you're quite a decent sort really and just put on this manner for business."
More leers as he shuffled off, and in a minute or two later I left with an identification card in the name of "Johann Liebe, mechanic."
Whether he would tell the police of my visit, I neither knew nor cared. He was obviously satisfied that things were pretty much as I had pretended, and the little hint that I might wish to "study" him again was quite likely to make him hold his tongue.
I had all that I needed; the way to leave was now open; and in a very few hours Nessa and I would have seen the last of Berlin for many a day.
The interview had taken longer than I had expected, however, and after snatching a hasty meal in the first decent place I came to, I hurried to the Karlstrasse to fix up the final arrangements for our departure.
Nessa was as jubilant as I at the news of my success. "Rosa told me all you said and where you'd gone and that we were to go to-night. Oh, isn't it splendid!" she exclaimed.
"You'll be ready?"
"Oh, no. I shall take care to miss the train, of course. Make a point of it," she cried, her eyes as bright as diamonds. "I shall have a cab, tell every one I'm going to England and—— How can you ask such a silly question, Jack?"
"Steady. Not that name till we're in Holland anyhow."
"Do you expect me to be steady at such a time, Herr Lassen?" with mock emphasis on the name.
"I shan't be Lassen after this, mind. This thing I've got in my pocket christens me Johann Liebe."
She laughed. "Let me look at it. I declare I could almost kiss it," she exclaimed, when I showed it to her. "And now we'll be sensible. What are my marching orders?"
"Flying orders, we call them. Well, I still hope we shall travel in state under Government patronage, and——"
"I hope not," she broke in. "I'd much rather go on the 'third wheel,' you know. It would be glorious fun. I don't want to have to scrap my disguise and have had all my trouble for nothing."
"That's all right; but the other wheel's both safer and quicker, thank you. All the same you'd better bring the props along in case things go wrong. One never knows. Do you want to bother with any luggage?"
"A comb and a toothbrush, a few hairpins and a pair of scissors. That too much?"
"Rather not; but why scissors?"
"You don't want your assistant to have long hair, do you? And it might be injudicious to worry a barber."
We both laughed. "I never thought of that. By Jove, it would be a beastly shame to have to cut off that lovely wig of yours." She had most beautiful hair of a rich dark auburn.
"A thousand times better than an internment camp," she replied, sobered by the mere thought of it. But only for the moment; she was too wildly excited at the prospect of going home for anything to damp her spirits. "Why, I'd do it only to play the part of Hans Bulich for an hour."
"Who's Hans Bulich?"
"Your assistant that hopes to be, of course. You're surely not going to begin by forgetting essentials?"
"I had forgotten for the moment."
"Well, don't forget again. Shall I spell it for you?"
"Don't give me any of your lip, 'Hans,'" I retorted smartly.
"All right, matey, keep your hand on the brake," she replied in her excellent assistant's tone; and worked in a number of motor parts to show she had been swotting them up as I had suggested.
"You'll do, boy," I said, laughing. "And now let's remember this isn't going to be all mere chaff," and I told her my plan. She was to be at the station a quarter of an hour before the train started and look out for me in the waiting-room. "If things go right with von Gratzen, that'll be the ladies' room; if not, then the third class. I'll manage to 'phone you in time for the necessary make-up. As for the rest, it's up to us to manage the best we can."
"If we have to go disguised, are you going to risk the mail train then?"
"There won't be any risk to speak of now that I've got this;" tapping my pocket. "Of course we can't go all the way because I haven't a passport; but we'll get as near the frontier as we can. Osnabrück, probably; but I'll have the tickets all right. And now I must be off."
"I wish my silly heart wouldn't beat like a racing 40 h.p., but I'll have it in good order when we meet again."
"It's a good thing I don't make it beat, eh?"
"Hands off, matey," replied "Hans," but with a very un-boylike blush.
"You must drop that habit, young 'un. You've got to think about other 40 h.p.'s, you know;" and with that I went, little thinking of all that was to happen before we met again.
I hurried to my rooms to put the final touches to my preparations; pack the one or two trifles I needed for the journey; make sure that no inquisitive eyes had discovered my hidden suit case; and have everything ready for instant departure.
This did not take more than a few minutes, and I had just finished and was replacing the suit case in its hiding place, when the telephone rang.
"Hullo?" I asked, wondering who could want to call me up.
"Herr Lassen?" came in a woman's voice I did not know.
"Yes. What is it?"
"I'm to tell you Anna Hilden wants to see you at once."
"Who is it speaking?" There was no answer, and none again when I repeated the question. Who could it be? And the meaning of it? It certainly wasn't Anna's voice, although the 'phone has a trick at times of changing the voice considerably.
It was still nearly an hour before the time she had fixed for me to go to her, and I couldn't understand how she could have got hold of my telephone number. But she wouldn't have telephoned if it hadn't been urgent. It looked as if she had made up her mind at last to admit everything, and the sooner I had the confession the better chance there was of catching von Gratzen at his office. So I hurried off, was lucky enough to get a taxi, and reached her place within ten minutes of getting her message.
To my surprise the door of her flat was ajar. Not perhaps an unusual thing, considering that she was a somewhat casual person. I pressed the electric bell and heard it ring all right; but she didn't come to the door. Probably slipped out for something, I concluded; and after a second ring, I pushed the door wide and went in.
She was not in the sitting-room, and I was just dropping into a chair to wait for her, when a glance through the open door of the adjoining bedroom brought my heart up into my mouth, as if I'd come on an air pocket a thousand feet deep.
She was lying asprawl on the bed in a most unnatural attitude.
In a second I was in the room and knew the truth.
She was dead, and the marks on her throat could only mean one thing.
"Murder!"
Some horror-filled moments passed before I grasped the full significance to me of the unfortunate woman's death. I turned dizzy and bewildered like a drunken man, and could do nothing but just stare at the body, literally stupefied by the suddenness of it.
It wasn't the fact of death that startled me; I had seen too many dead bodies at the Front to be much concerned.
But I made a big effort to pull myself together. I examined her to be certain that she was really dead, for the body was still warm. There was no doubt about it. The poor thing had been choked, and the marks of the murderer's fingers showed on her throat.
There had been a struggle in the room, and some of the wretched furniture had been overturned. My wits were beginning to clear by that time; and I was glancing about the room wondering who had been brute enough to commit the murder and what I had better do, when I made a discovery that told me everything and turned the blood in my veins icy cold.
In examining the body I had disarranged the bedclothes slightly, and by the side of the neck, just where it would have fallen from the murderer's finger, lay a ring.
Von Erstein's! The puzzle ring he had once shown and explained to me! It was impossible to mistake it; and there was probably not another ring like it in Berlin.
I didn't lose my head that time; the instinct of self-preservation was too strong to allow of any other feeling. My one absorbing thought was to get away before any one could come.
I darted back into the sitting-room and snatched at my hat which I had left on the table. In my flurry I fumbled. It fell to the floor and rolled under the table; and when I grabbed for it again, the quaint little card case which Rosa had given me lay open just beside it.
Too obsessed by the desire to get out of the place, I had no other feeling than a faint satisfaction at finding it again; not realizing for an instant the full significance of the incident I pocketed the thing, picked up my hat and left the flat. I took care to shut the door; this would serve to postpone the discovery of the murder; went down the staircase without undue hurry, made sure there was no one to see me leave, walked leisurely away until I turned the first corner and then made off at a rapid pace.
A sensation of profound relief that I was safe for a time at any rate was followed by some minutes of acute reaction in which I was incapable of consecutive thought. A mental blank from which I awoke pretty much as a man might wake from sleep-walking. I gazed about me unknowingly, and seeing the gate of a small public garden close at hand, I went in and sat down.
I soon began to get my wits in working order and bit by bit pieced things together. Curiously enough, almost the first thought was about the comparative trifle of the card case. I remember that I took it out and looked at it, wondering stupidly when I could have dropped it in Anna's room. Then I recalled that I had missed it in the morning when with von Gratzen. It couldn't have been in my pocket therefore when I went to Anna; and in a few seconds I understood.
The last time I had touched it was on the previous night when I had taken Rudolff's statement out of it to show von Erstein and he had tried to snatch the paper away and had only got the little case. I remembered that he had thrown it down close to him and had fiddled with it nervously afterwards.
It was clear that he had taken it away with him and had intentionally left it in Anna's room to shift his villainous deed on to me. It was worthy of him; and it would have succeeded but for that wonderful slice of luck—ineffably blessed luck, indeed—by which I had found the card case.
That helped me to piece the rest together. Panic-stricken by what I had told her about von Gratzen, Anna had no doubt threatened to expose everything; Erstein's whole scheme would be ruined the moment she opened her lips: and this had roused the brute in him until he had been driven to strangle her. The ring had slipped from his finger without his noticing the loss of it in his rage. Then he must have tossed my card case down under the table to connect me with the crime.
He had obviously left the door ajar for the same reason; had probably rushed to the first public telephone box and called me up in a voice which was enough like a woman's to mislead me; and intended to send some one to catch me red-hot on the scene of the crime.
Two points were not clear. Why no one had caught me? There had been ample time, supposing that he was hiding in wait for my arrival. And why had the murder been committed in Anna's room, seeing that she had gone from me to find him?
One of two suggestions seemed to answer the last question. Either she had not found him at first and had left a sufficiently urgent message to make him hurry to her, or that after a first interview he had induced her to go home and had followed at once. The plan to kill her must have been in his mind then, and obviously he couldn't do it in his own rooms.
The first question—why I had not been caught—wasn't so readily solved; but the ring might well account for it, if he had only discovered the loss of it in the interval of waiting for me. With that damning bit of evidence against himself, the bottom had dropped out of his scheme against me, and he would not dare to try and have me caught in the act.
And now I had fortunately shut the door against him. He couldn't go back for the ring even if he had the pluck, which I doubted.
This was another stroke of luck, indeed; and it was needed in all truth, for the mess was bad and black enough to need a heap of it, if I was to escape being charged with the murder. Such a charge would ruin me lock, stock and barrel. Even if I could clear myself—and that was almost impossible—all the truth about myself would be ferretted out, and it was thousands to one that I should be shot for a spy.
Only one expedient occurred to me at first—to bolt. But that looked hopeless in the new circumstances. It would be tantamount to a confession of guilt; von Erstein would tell some plausible lie about the ring belonging to Anna; and it would be believed easily enough if suspicion were lifted from him by my flight; the hue and cry would be raised all over the country; old Graun would tell his story—that I had a workman's papers in the name of Liebe; and my arrest would be a matter of hours possibly, certainly one of days at the outside.
That idea had to be set aside, therefore. Before there could be any thought of flight suspicion must be fastened on von Erstein. But how? Not by sitting on a public seat and nibbling my nails; so I got up and started back to the centre of things.
I had completely recovered from the disturbing panicky condition which had so confused me in the first rush of things. I don't think I was even afraid. My chief feeling was that I was in the very devil's own mess and that I should go under, unless my own wits could save me. If Feldmann had been in Berlin I should have gone to him; but he wasn't, and it was no use wishing he had been.
There was only one other man in the whole city—von Gratzen; and the moment that became clear and plain, I hailed a taxi and was driven straight to his office.
He was still there, but refused to see me, sending von Welten to ask my business. I said that it was on personal business I wished to see his chief.
This didn't work, however. Von Welten returned, saying the Baron was exceedingly busy and would I state my business in writing. This looked ugly; but after thinking a second, I wrote on my card: "Please see me for the sake of the Untergasse affair;" placed it in an envelope and sent it in. If anything would induce von Gratzen to have me in, that would.
I was right. Von Welten came back smiling. "The chief will see you in a minute or two, Herr Lassen. I'm glad." He was an exceedingly pleasant fellow and stayed chatting with me until von Gratzen's bell rang and I was shown in.
"You're giving me a lot of trouble, young man, as you can see," he said, pointing to a portfolio in which there appeared to be a lot of papers on the top of which were the coveted tickets for Nessa and me. "And now what about this Untergasse affair? Found anything out that's valuable? I can't give you many minutes."
"I'm in a devil of a mess, sir, but it has nothing to do with that. I wrote that because I was compelled to see you."
"I agree with you. You've been in one ever since you reached the city, it seems to me, indeed. Nothing fresh, I trust?"
"There is, and the worst of all, sir. I'm in danger of being charged with murder."
"With what?" he cried in amazement. "Phew! Well, tell me."
"When I saw you this morning I gathered that the reason those tickets for Miss Caldicott and myself could not be used was because of the trouble about the woman, Anna Hilden."
"True, but you yourself said you wished it cleared up first."
"So on leaving here I went to see her again."
"Good God, you don't mean to say you lost your head and laid hands on her in this awful way?" The thought of it appeared to affect him deeply.
"Oh dear no, sir. I hope I'm not capable of such a thing. From what she said, I became certain the whole thing was a fraud and——"
"So it is," he interposed, nodding. "You are right. We know all about the woman already. Go on."
"I tried persuasion first; but that was no use, so I let her know that the matter was in your hands."
"I hope that frightened her."
"It did, sir. She was almost out of her wits and promised to tell me everything this afternoon. I was to call at five o'clock."
"Where did you go next?" he shot in abruptly.
"To the von Reblings."
"To tell Miss Caldicott about these, I suppose?" holding up the tickets.
"Yes. I knew she would be very anxious."
He put the pinned set of tickets, etc., into the portfolio, under a couple of papers, and leant back, with his fingers interlocked, and stared at me with frowning intentness. "You're not a fool, my boy, and you must see that your zeal on that young lady's account is likely to rouse a lot of suspicion. What do the von Reblings say about it?"
"They are extremely anxious that she should be allowed to go home."
"Umph!" a grunt and a nod, both of which were repeated. "And where did you go next after leaving them?"
I started and hesitated.
"Are you going to tell me the whole truth? We get to know many strange things here, you know."
"I went to see a man named Graun——"
"I know you did. You were followed and he was questioned. I won't ask you why you got what you did from him; but don't attempt to use it. Now go on about this other affair. Just everything; everything, and quite frankly."
"I will, sir. Let me get my thoughts in order again. You've taken me considerably by surprise." I paused a few seconds and then told him exactly what had occurred, from the moment of my receiving the telephone call, down to my discovery of von Erstein's ring under Anna's body.
He jumped up excitedly at that. "Why didn't you tell me that first?" he cried. "There isn't a moment to lose. I must see about it instantly;" and he hurried out of the room.
For the second time the tickets were within reach and I was alone in the room. He had apparently forgotten them in his excitement, and that I had only to stretch out my hand and secure them. Or had he gone out deliberately intending to give me the chance? He knew how eager I was to get away; the old Jew's tale must have shown that.
I didn't hesitate this time. I whipped them out of the portfolio and pocketed them. Had I better bolt, or stay to face him? A mighty difficult question. If I ran away, he might suspect; if I stayed, there was a chance that he might not miss them. If they were missed, they wouldn't be worth a pfennig. We should certainly be stopped at the station; there would be a scene and Nessa would be hopelessly compromised. That was unthinkable.
There was nothing for it, therefore, but to stay and face it out. It wasn't easy to do; and nothing in the world except the thought of the consequences to Nessa, could have glued me to my chair for the minutes I had still to wait for von Gratzen. It was a positive relief when the strain ended and he came back.
He was looking very grave and stern, and there were still traces of the excitement he had shown when he had left me.
How I watched him! The next moment would decide everything for me. He was thinking closely, paused with his hand to his forehead when halfway to the desk, nodded in response to a thought, and went on to his chair. I had to hold my breath, as he sat down and laid his hand on the portfolio. I was ready to throw up the sponge as he slightly lifted the top paper and toyed with it.
The thought flashed through my head that the only thing left was to admit everything; who I was; why I had come; why I was so eager to get away; and then ask him to help me in return for what I had done in the Untergasse affair.
But the moment for that hadn't come yet at all events. Whether he noticed the absence of the tickets it was impossible to say. He appeared to be entirely lost in thought; he was staring abstractedly at nothing; not once had I seen his eyes drop to the desk; not so much as a side glance came my way; but then he was such a wily old beggar that that might all have been pretence to mislead me.
After a time that seemed hours to me, he nodded to himself again, took the hand from the papers to pass it across his forehead, and smiled. A smile of infinite meaning it was too. Then he closed the portfolio and put it away in a drawer.
"Now tell me the rest, boy," he said, turning to look at me for the first time. "Hallo, you look a little done up. Room too hot? Open the window a bit."
I jumped at the excuse to get out of range of his keen eyes for an instant. He might well say it was hot, for the strain had brought the perspiration in great beads on my forehead.
"Stand there a while and get a breath of the fresh air. A thing like this is sure to shake you up," he added.
Did he know? Was this intended to give me an opportunity of pulling myself together? Had he noticed everything and been thinking out some further subtle move in the game? Who could tell?
"Better?" he asked, as I returned to my seat. "There's no hurry. I've put off my other matters and shall have to keep you here for an hour or so. I'll tell you why presently. Oh, by the way, you'd better give me the card you got from old Graun. It may help you if I'm able to say you gave it to me; and, of course, it's no use to you now."
Was this his way of telling me that he knew? was the question in my mind as I gave it him. Then I resumed the story of the afternoon.
"You brought that card case away?" he shot in when I mentioned it.
"Yes. I have it here. Will you take it?"
"Perhaps I'd better," he replied after a pause, and then opened the drawer containing the portfolio, tossed it in carelessly, and let me finish the rest of the story without interruption, when he once more lapsed into close thought.
Von Welten came in before he spoke and handed him a note. "Not a second later than seven o'clock, mind, von Welten. Not a second, mind," he said when he had read the letter. "That'll do;" and we were alone again.
"Now I'll tell you something in my turn," he said. "You have rendered us a very great service; a much greater service than you can imagine. You have only made one mistake, for you ought to have hurried to me as fast as possible from that woman's rooms; but you're evidently lucky, for no harm has been done."
"I don't quite understand, sir," I stammered in surprise.
"I'm going to explain it to you. In the first place let me tell you I believe absolutely that you have told me the truth—about this murder, I mean—perhaps not in everything else."
"There is only one thing, and if you wish——"
"Don't interrupt me, boy. I don't like it," he exclaimed testily. "It puts me out. Now about this affair. We know all about this woman, Anna Hilden. That isn't her name at all; but that doesn't matter now. She is, or was, one of von Erstein's mistresses; not the only one, by the way. The real Anna Hilden was another—years ago, of course—and that is how he knew all about that sale of the secret information to France."
I had not said anything about that and he noticed my start.
"You needn't be astonished. I tell you we know many things here. It is our business to know them. The man who betrayed us in that affair was von Erstein himself, and you, if you are really Lassen, were merely the go-between and scapegoat. But he was too cunning for us to be able to prove a thing against him. There are many things we think we know about him and can't prove, and others we don't wish to prove," he said, with a very meaning side glance.
"I can understand that."
"We'll hope you don't come under either head, my boy. Well, we've been waiting for von Erstein, and now, thanks to you, we've got him. This woman went to him to-day after you left her; she was with him a considerable time; she left in great agitation; and he followed later to the flat which had been taken for this affair of yours. That he murdered her, there is no doubt, after what you've told me; but it's got to be proved. You won't be sorry if it is, probably."
"He ought to be hanged," I exclaimed impulsively.
He fixed his keen eyes on me, and in an instant I saw what I had done and that this was one of his infernal traps.
"You're either forgetting yourself, or beginning to remember things, aren't you?" he asked deliberately, with one of his queer inscrutable smiles. "It's in England that they hang murderers, you know."
I could have cursed myself for the idiotic slip, as his eyes bored right into my brain.
Abashed and confused by this unexpected trap, I sat cudgelling my wits for something to say, and at last stammered out, "I—I meant lynched, hanged on the nearest lamp-post, sir."
It was the lamest of lame dogs; but he appeared satisfied. He leant back in his chair. "Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Your American experiences, I expect. Well, we can talk about that another time. I was going to say that in von Erstein we have to deal with a very cunning individual indeed, and I shall expect you to help us. One of the necessary steps may be your arrest."
"Arrest!" I echoed in dismay.
"I said arrest. It may be necessary. It is essential he should not believe that a jot of suspicion attaches to him. You'll appreciate that?"
"I can appreciate it perhaps, but——"
"Don't be alarmed. I promise you very good treatment."
"But I thought you wished——" I pulled up on the brink of blurting out about my going to England.
"No matter for the moment what I wished, my boy." I was beginning to hate that term of familiarity, for I knew now what it covered. "Everything must wait upon this now," he continued. "The arrest will not be made at once, however, as there is one thing you have to do first."
This was better. If it wasn't done at once, it never would be done, I was resolved. "What is that?" I asked.
"You must return that ring to von Erstein."
"Do what?" I cried aghast. The ring was the only evidence against him!
"Do try to listen carefully. You must return it to him and lead him to believe you brought it away from that room. Let him snatch it from you while you are threatening to denounce him; or give it him as the terms of a truce between you; anyhow you please. But mind, it must be done so that he is convinced no eyes but yours have seen it. That's vital."
The light was beginning to break through even my thick skull then.
"We have it here; our people found it exactly as you said."
"Then the murder is known?"
"Oh, yes; the police have it in hand by this time; but they know nothing about that ring. We sent two men to the place who are suspected of being in his pay; and they will be able to report to him that nothing of the sort was found on the spot. We have taken every precaution, of course. It has been photographed from a dozen different points and a replica is being made. I am waiting now for the impression of the mould."
"It has occurred to you, of course, that he may destroy it?" I suggested.
He shook his head. "There's no fear of that. For one thing he's much too proud of it; there isn't another exactly like it in all Europe, probably not in the whole world; for another, he looks on it as a sort of mascot; there's some kind of legend or other about it; and lastly, if you do your part well, he will feel he can keep it with absolute safety."
The scheme was subtle enough to be worthy even of von Gratzen, and it increased my dread of his almost diabolical cunning. "When will you make him account for it?"
"That depends. He's a vindictive devil and is sure to denounce you for the murder, the instant he thinks he can do it safely. The most effective moment to deal with him would be when we get him in the witness box, giving evidence against you. But we shall see."
"And when am I to be arrested?"
"As soon as he lays the information against you, unless I find on consideration we can avoid quite so drastic a step. It is not altogether impossible; but the pith of everything is that you get the ring back to him as soon as possible."
A pleasant look-out for me—to be charged with murder of which he knew I was innocent in order to help him carry out plans. "You will scarcely expect me to be deliriously joyful at the prospect of being tried for my life," I said with a feeble smile.
He didn't like that at all and frowned at me. "Worse than that might happen to you, perhaps; and in the end it would be immensely to your advantage," he replied with unpleasantly deliberate significance.
I dropped that line like a hot coal. "I'm in your hands, sir."
"I'm glad to hear you say that. Of course, as I said just now, it may not come to that; I have another possible plan, indeed. But the other part is essential. You will give me your word of honour to carry out my instructions faithfully?"
"Yes, I give you my word of honour. Would it be sufficient if I were to let him have it with a letter?"
"Why?" Like a pistol shot came the question and his eyes snapped.
"I might bungle the personal business. I'm not much of a hand at acting, I'm afraid."
"I see," he replied; nodding; and something uncommonly like a smile hovered about the corners of his mouth. "I thought you said something to that Jew about theatricals and your studying his character. I have looked on you as a particularly good actor, my boy. But let's think. It would depend on how you worded any letter."
He considered for a while, started suddenly, nodded to himself, smiled, wrote hastily, and handed me the paper. "Just memorize that."
"Von Erstein, you will know where I found the enclosed just as I know why you left what I found there. You think to ruin me. I am not the man you believe me to be and can prove my innocence by means of which you can have no conception. Enough that I tell you I have sufficiently recovered my memory to protect myself against your devilish malice. The enclosed proves I am ready to cry a truce.—Johann Lassen."
What I felt as I read this under the keen piercing gaze he rivetted on me the whole time, no words can describe. "Well, my boy?" he asked.
"I—I'll memorize it, sir," I stammered to get time to think.
"Just read it out. Let me hear how it sounds."
Fortunately, or intentionally, I couldn't determine which, he put his hand before his face as I read it in none too firm a tone. "It'll do. Oh, yes. The recovery of your memory seems to explain the word 'means,' and he'll think you are only bluffing him. He'll never dream you've told me all about it; and, of course, that's what I intended. You understand I much prefer your seeing him; but if you can't, you can send that letter."
I began to breathe freely again. "I'll see him to-night, if possible," I replied.
"I'm sure you will. It's now all but seven. He generally goes to dinner at eight, and between now and then you ought to be able to catch him at his rooms. Mind, I depend on you."
"You may, sir."
"They ought to be ready for us now," he said; and as he rang his bell von Welten came in, bringing the ring, the replica and the photographs; and we all scrutinized them carefully.
The facsimile of the ring was absolutely perfect. It was either in wax or some harder material and had been gilded, and as it and the original lay side by side on the table it was impossible to distinguish the one from the other.
"Very good indeed. Clever work, in the time," said von Gratzen. "Of course he understands that the finished facsimile must be in gold and will take to pieces in the same way as the original."
"Oh, yes. He has a number of small moulds of the individual parts. Would you like to see them, sir?" replied von Welten.
"Not necessary at all. He knows his job. That'll do, von Welten. Leave the real thing with me;" and he picked it up and examined it with a gloating and almost satanic smile, as von Welten left the room. "At last!" he murmured under his breath.
Then he wrapped it up and handed it to me. "You see how I trust you, my boy. I know you won't fail me, too. And now you had better go. Just a last word. As soon as you've returned that to him disappear for a time. Leave Berlin and go, oh anywhere; the farther the better for the time; and don't on any account come to me again until I send for you."
Utterly mystified by all this, I ventured: "But can I go away without a permit?"
Another of his queer inscrutable smiles greeted this. "Perhaps it would be better; but you haven't any too much time to spare—if you're going to catch von Erstein," he added as an afterthought. He rang his bell and wrote furiously. "Get that stamped officially at once. As quick as you can," he told von Welten, who hurried away. "He'll give it you as you go out," he said to me, rising and gripping my hand. "And now, good-bye, my boy—for a time at any rate. You're a good lad, and whatever happens, if you do what I've asked, I'll always stand by you."
Von Welten met me with the permit as I left the room. "You're in luck to have got on the right side of the chief in this way," he said, as we shook hands.
Were they all living enigmas? was my thought as I left the building, for von Welten's manner was as veiled and significant as his chief's. Did von Gratzen know that I had taken the tickets? Had he worded the letter I was to write to von Erstein in order to tell me that he knew my lost memory was a fraud? Did that remark, "You haven't any too much time to spare," refer to my having to catch the mail? He had qualified it by saying something about seeing von Erstein; but that had seemed to be just an afterthought.
It was beyond me; and I was even more astounded when I read the paper which von Welten had given me. It was much more than a mere permit. It amounted to an official authority that I was travelling on business of State; was to go where I would and when; that all assistance was to be given to me; and any inquiries were to be telegraphed straight to von Gratzen.
I was indeed lucky, as von Welten had declared. He little guessed what luck it was! Or did he? Was it all intended to make my path to the frontier clear?
There was no time to puzzle about it then, however. I could write and ask for the reply to the riddle when Nessa and I were safely in Holland or home in England; what I had to do now was to get this business with von Erstein finished as quickly as possible.
I drove to his flat; but he was not there, and I could not learn where to look for him. I was rather glad of this. It would be much easier to write the letter arranged. I went then to the Karlstrasse to tell Nessa that she could travel in her own character.
Rosa was with her, and both were nervous at not having heard earlier how matters were going, for it was then more than a quarter past seven.
"I've been worrying awfully," said Nessa. "Is anything wrong?"
"Not a bit of it. Everything's gloriously right. I've got our tickets, and all you've to do is to be at the station."
"But what's happened?" exclaimed Rosa.
"I haven't time to tell you now. I'm sorry; but I have to rush back to my rooms and get something.—By Jove!" I broke off in a cold sweat as the meaning of von Gratzen's look at my suggestion about writing dawned on me. I had told him before that I could neither write nor read writing! I had even given him a specimen of my new pothook fist! Of course I must keep it up, and it might take me Heaven knew how long. "I must go this instant," I said, and shaking hands with Rosa I rushed away to my rooms and set to work at once.
It was a deuce of a business. Every letter had to be printed in clumsy fashion; my fingers were trembling under the stress of my impatience; I made blunders and had to begin all over again, and every lost minute was of vital importance.
If I hadn't given my word of honour to von Gratzen I'd have wrapped the beastly ring up, scribbled a word or two and have left it at that. It was on the table by the side of the paper as I wrote, and I had just started on the second edition absorbed in the work, when a hand was stretched over my shoulder and grabbed the ring.
It was von Erstein; I was never more glad to see any one in my life. I could have forgiven him everything for such a service.
"Very good of you to leave the door open, Lassen," he said, with a sneering laugh. "Just going to return it to me, eh? I thought I'd dropped it here last night."
There were still minutes enough left for me to put up a show of a struggle, and get in an explanation. So I grabbed hold of him, taking care that he should not get away and also that he kept possession of the ring.
"Iwasgoing to send it you, von Erstein. You can see I've begun the letter there."
He stooped to read it and was puzzled. "What the devil does that mean?" he growled.
"I'm willing to come to terms. We both know where I found it."
"How do I know where you put it?"
"Don't lie, man. You know very well that it was on your finger when you left here last night, and"—I paused for the sake of emphasis—"two people saw it there this morning."
This hit him hard, and he winced and drew a deep breath. "Rubbish!" he muttered.
"I've made sure about that. I've just come from your flat, remember," I said meaningly.
"Have you been spreading that lie about me?"
"Do you take me for an idiot to let any one want to ask where I found it?"
He was satisfied, and his relief showed itself in his immediate change of manner. "All right, we'll bury the hatchet if you like," he said with a very poor attempt to hoodwink me.
"You can go then;" and I moved to let him leave. I was anxious to get rid of him now, as it was time for me to be off to the station. I must have betrayed my impatience somehow, for he started, stared a moment, and sat down. "You're in a deuce of a hurry."
"Dinner time, and I'm hungry. Clear out."
"Nice room you've got here, Lassen," he answered, squinting round, and started again as his eyes fell on my suit case. "O-ho, that's the game, is it?" he chuckled. "Going to bolt? No good, my friend, no good at all."
His fat insolent chuckle roused the devil in me. "You'd better drop that tone with me, von Erstein, and not interfere with my movements."
"Shall we go and dine together?" he sneered. "It'll be safer, for there are a few inquisitive friends of mine waiting outside."
I had noticed one or two men hanging round the building as I entered, and it wouldn't do to be shadowed. So I went out, locked the front door and put the key in my pocket.
"What's that for?" he growled uneasily.
"So that our chat shan't be disturbed. I've sampled your friends already, remember," I said drily.
"Let me go," he cried in a dickens of a stew.
"You wanted to stop, and stop you shall."
To my intense joy he came for me and thus saved me from the unpleasant job of knocking him out in cold blood. I did it quite satisfactorily, and as he fell he struck his head against the corner of a writing desk and saved me the trouble of hitting him again.
Then I collared my suit case, clambered out of the bathroom window down by the fire escape, and got away by a passage into a side street. A single glance satisfied me that none of his "friends" saw me, and I rushed off to the station.
I reached it with only a few minutes in hand, and Nessa was waiting for me in the door of the waiting-room.
"I was afraid you'd be late and that something had happened," she said nervously.
"It's all right. We've plenty of time. Don't be nervy and not too friendly yet. There may be eyes about. We'll find a carriage at once."
It was all right enough to tell her not to be nervy, but I was on pins and needles, wondering if my theft of the tickets had been discovered, whether at the last moment we should be stopped, and a hundred other wonderings.
My eyes were all over the place as we walked to the train; and to my infinite dismay I caught sight of the old Jew planted close to the barrier through which we had to pass. That was not the worst, moreover, by any means. He was talking to a man who had policeman written all over him.
And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, on the platform just beyond von Welten was strolling up and down smoking.