CHAPTER IX
I ENCOUNTER AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE WHO LEADS ME TO A DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE
He stood in the centre of the room, facing the door, his legs, straddledapart, planted firmly on the ground, one hand behind his back, theother, withered and useless like the rest of the arm, thrust into theside pocket of his tunic. He wore a perfectly plain undress uniform offield-grey, and the unusual simplicity of his dress, coupled with thefact that he was bare-headed, rendered him so unlike his conventionalportraits in the full panoply of war that I doubt if I should haverecognized him--paradoxical as it may seem--but for the havoc depictedin every lineament of those once so familiar features.
Only one man in the world to-day could look like that. Only one man inthe world to-day could show, by the ravage in his face, the appallingweight of responsibility slowly crushing one of the most vigorous andresilient personalities in Europe. His figure, erstwhile erect andwell-knit, seemed to have shrunk, and his withered arm, unnaturallylooped away into his pocket, assumed a prominence that lent somethingsinister to that forbidding grey and harassed face.
His head was sunk forward on his breast. His face, always intenselysallow, almost Italian in its olive tint, was livid. All its alertnesswas gone; the features seemed to have collapsed, and the flesh hungflabbily, bulging in deep pouches under the eyes and in loose folds atthe corners of the mouth. His head was grizzled an iron-grey but thehair at the temples was white as driven snow. Only his eyes wereunchanged. They were the same grey, steely eyes, restless, shifting,unreliable, mirrors of the man's impulsive, wayward and fickle mind.
He lowered at me. His brow was furrowed and his eyes flashed malice. Inthe brief instant in which I gazed at him I thought of a phrase a friendhad used after seeing the Kaiser in one of his angry moods--"His icy,black look."
I was so taken aback at finding myself in the Emperor's presence that Iforgot my part and remained staring in stupefaction at the apparition.The other was seemingly too busy with his thoughts to notice myforgetfulness, for he spoke at once, imperiously, in the harsh staccatoof a command.
"What is this I hear?" he said. "Why has not Grundt come? What are youdoing here?"
By this time I had elaborated the fable I had begun to tell in thecorridor without. I had it ready now: it was thin, but it must suffice.
"If your Majesty will allow me, I will explain," I said. The Emperor wasrocking himself to and fro, in nervous irritability, on his feet. Hiseyes were never steady for an instant: now they searched my face, nowthey fell to the floor, now they scanned the ceiling.
"Dr. Grundt and I succeeded in our quest, dangerous though it was. Asyour Majesty is aware, the ... the ... the object had been divided...."
"Yes, yes, I know! Go on!" the other said, pausing for a moment in hisrocking.
"I was to have left England first with my portion. I could not get away.Everyone is searched for letters and papers at Tilbury. I devised ascheme and we tested it, but it failed."
"How? It failed?" the other cried.
"With no detriment to the success of our mission, Your Majesty."
"Explain! What was your stratagem?"
"I cut a piece of the lining from a handbag and in this I wrapped aperfectly harmless letter addressed to an English shipping agent inRotterdam. I then pasted the fragment of the lining back in its place inthe bottom of the bag. Grundt gave the bag to one of our number as anexperiment to see if it would elude the vigilance of the Englishpolice."
A light of interest was growing in the Emperor's manner, banishing hisill-temper. Anything novel always appealed to him.
"Well?" he said.
"The ruse was detected, the letter was found and our man was finedtwenty pounds at the police court. It was then that Dr. Grundt decidedto send me...."
"You've got it with you?" the other exclaimed eagerly.
"No, Your Majesty," I said. "I had no means of bringing it away. Dr.Grundt, on the other hand ..." And I doubled up my leg and touched myfoot.
The Emperor stared at me and the furrow reappeared between his eyes.Then a smile broke out on his face, a warm, attractive smile, likesunshine after rain, and he burst into a regular guffaw. I knew HisMajesty's weakness for jokes at the expense of the physical deformitiesof others, but I had scarcely dared to hope that my subtle reference toGrundt's clubfoot as a hiding-place for compromising papers would havehad such a success. For the Kaiser fairly revelled in the idea andlaughed loud and long, his sides fairly shaking.
"Ach, der Stelze! Excellent! Excellent!" he cried. "Plessen, come andhear how we've diddled the Englander again!"
We were in a long room, lofty, with a great window at the far end, wherethe room seemed to run to the right and left in the shape of a T. Fromthe big writing-desk with its litter of photographs in heavy silverframes, the little bronze busts of the Empress, the water-coloursea-scapes and other little touches, I judged this to be the Emperor'sstudy.
At the monarch's call, a white-haired officer emerged from the furtherend of the room, that part which was hidden from my view.
The Kaiser put his hand on his shoulder.
"A great joke, Plessen!" he said, chuckling. Then, to me:
"Tell it again!"
I had warmed to my work now. I gave as drily humorous an account as Icould of Dr. Grundt, fat and massive and podgy, hobbling on board thesteamer at Tilbury, under the noses of the British police, with thedocument stowed away in his boot.
The Kaiser punctuated my story with gusty guffaws, and emphasized thefun of the _denouement_ by poking the General in the ribs.
Plessen laughed very heartily, as indeed he was expected to. Then hesaid suavely:
"But has the stratagem succeeded, Your Majesty?"
The monarch knit his brow and looked at me.
"Well, young man, did it work?"
"... Because," Plessen went on, "if so, Grundt must be in Holland. Inthat case, why is he not here?"
My heart sank within me. Above all things, I knew I must keep mycountenance. The least sign of embarrassment and I was lost. Yet I feltthe blood fleeing from my face and I was glad I stood in the shadow.
A knock came to the door. The elderly chamberlain who had met me outsideappeared.
"Your Majesty will excuse me ... General Baron von Fischer is there toreport...."
"Presently, presently," was the answer in an irritable tone. "I amengaged just now...."
The old courtier paused irresolutely for a moment.
"Well, what is it; what is it?"
"Despatches from General Head-quarters, Your Majesty! The General askedme to say the matter was urgent!"
The Kaiser wakened in an instant.
"Bring him in!" Then, to Plessen, he added in a voice from which allmirth had vanished, in accents of gloom:
"At this hour, Plessen? If things have again gone wrong on the Somme!"
An officer came in quickly, rigid with a frozen face, helmet on head,portfolio under his arm. The Kaiser walked the length of the room to hisdesk and sat down. Plessen and the other followed him. I remained whereI was. They seemed to have forgotten all about me.
A murmur rose from the desk. The officer was delivering his report. Thenthe Kaiser seemed to question him, for I heard his hard, metallicvoice:
"Contalmaison ... Trones Wood ... heavy losses ... forcedback ... terrific artillery fire ..." were words that reached me.The Kaiser's voice rose on a high note of irritability. Suddenly hedashed the papers on the desk from him and exclaimed:
"It is outrageous! I'll break him! Not another man shall he have if Imust go myself and teach his men their duty!"
Plessen hurriedly left the desk and came to me. His old face was whiteand his hands were shaking.
"Get out of here!" he said to me in a fierce undertone. "Wait outsideand I will see you later!" Still, from the desk, resounded that harsh,strident voice, running on in an ascending scale, pouring forth afoaming torrent of menace.
I had often heard of the sudden paroxysms of fury from which the K
aiserwas said to suffer of recent years, but never in my wildest daydreamsdid I ever imagine I should assist at one.
Gladly enough did I exchange the highly charged electrical atmosphere ofthe Imperial study for the repose of the quiet corridor. Its perfecttranquillity was as balm to my quivering nerves. Of the man in greennothing was to be seen. Only the trooper continued his silent vigil.
Again I acted on impulse. I was wearing my grass-green raincoat, my hatI carried in my hand. I might therefore easily pass for one just leavingthe Castle. Without hesitation, I turned to the left, the way I hadcome, and plunged once more into the labyrinth of galleries andcorridors and landings by which the man in green had led me. I very soonlost myself, so I decided to descend the next staircase I should cometo. I followed this plan and went down a broad flight of stairs, at thefoot of which I found a night porter, clad in a vast overcoat bedizenedwith eagles and seated on a stool, reading a newspaper.
He stopped me and asked me my business. I told him I was coming from theEmperor's private apartments, whereupon he demanded my pass. I showedhim my badge which entirely satisfied him, though he muttered somethingabout "new faces" and not having seen me before. I asked him for the wayout. He said that at the end of the gallery I should come to the westentrance. I felt I had had a narrow squeak of running into my mentoroutside. I told the man I wanted the other entrance ... I had my carthere.
"You mean the south entrance?" he asked, and proceeded to give medirections which brought me, without further difficulty, out upon theopen space in front of the great equestrian statue of the EmperorWilliam I.
It was a clear, starry night and I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw theSchloss-Platz glittering in the cold light of the arc lamps. So pressinghad been the danger threatening me that the atmosphere of the Castleseemed stifling in comparison with the keen night air. A new confidencefilled my veins as I strode along, though the perils to which I wasadvancing were not a whit less than those I had just escaped. For I hadburnt my boats. My disappearance from the Castle must surely arousesuspicion and it was only a matter of hours for the hue and cry to beraised after me. At best it might be delayed until Clubfoot presentedhimself at the Castle.
I could not remain in Berlin, that was clear. My American passport wasnot in order, and if I were to fall back upon my silver badge, I shouldinstantly come into contact with the police with all kinds of unwelcomeconsequences. No, I must get out of Berlin at all costs. Well away fromthe capital, I might possibly utilize my silver badge or by its helpprocure identity papers that would give me a status of some kind.
But Francis? Baffled as I was by that obscure jingle of German,something seemed to tell me that it was a message from my brother. Itwas dated from Berlin, and I felt that the solution of the riddle, ifriddle it were, must be found here.
I had reached Unter den Linden. I entered a cafe and ordered a glass ofbeer. The place was a blaze of light and dense with a blue cloud oftobacco smoke. A noisy band was crashing out popular tunes and there wasa loud buzz of conversation rising from every table. It was all verycheerful and the noise and the bustle did me good after the strain ofthe night.
I drew from my pocket the slip of paper I had had from Dicky and fell toscanning it again. I had not been twelve hours in Germany, but already Iwas conscious that, for anyone acting a part, let anything go wrong withhis identity papers and he could never leave the country. If he werelucky, he might lie doggo; but there was no other course.
Supposing, then, that this had happened to Francis (as, indeed, Red Tabshad hinted to me was the case) what course would he adopt? He would tryand smuggle out a message announcing his plight. Yes, I think that iswhat I myself would do in similar circumstances.
Well, I would accept this as a message from Francis. Now to study itonce more.
_O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz!Wie leer sind deine Blaetter.Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.Wo zweie sich zankenErfreut sich der Dritte._
The message fell into three parts, each consisting of a phrase. Thefirst phrase might certainly be a warning that Francis had failed inhis mission.
_"O Okewood! how empty are thy leaves!"_
What, then, of the other two phrases?
They were short and simple. Whatever message they conveyed, it could notbe a lengthy one. Nor was it likely that they contained a report ofFrancis' mission to Germany, whatever it had been. Indeed, it was notconceivable that my brother would send any such report to a Dutchmanlike van Urutius, a friendly enough fellow, yet a mere acquaintance andan alien at that.
The message carried in those two phrases must be, I felt sure, apersonal one, relating to my brother's welfare. What would he desire tosay? That he was arrested, that he was going to be shot? Possibly, butmore probably his idea in sending out word was to explain his silenceand also to obtain assistance.
My eye recurred continually to the final phrase: "When _two_ people fallout, the _third_ party rejoices."
Might not these numerals refer to the number of a street? Might not inthese two phrases be hidden an address at which one might find Francis,or at the worst, hear news of him?
I sent for the Berlin Directory. I turned up the streets section andeagerly ran my eye down the columns of the "A's." I did not find what Iwas looking for, and that was an "Achilles-Strasse," either with two"l's" or with one.
Then I tried "Eichenholz." There was an "Eichenbaum-Allee" in the Berlinsuburb called West-End, but that was all. I tried for a "Blaetter" or a"Blatt-Strasse" with an equally negative result.
It was discouraging work, but I went back to the paper again. The onlyother word likely to serve as a street remaining in the puzzle was"Zelt."
"Wie Achiles in dem Zelte."
Wearily I opened the directory at the "Z's."
There, staring me in the face, I found the street called "In denZelten."
I had struck the trail at last.
In den Zelten, I discovered, on referring to the directory again,derived its name "In the Tents," from the fact that in earlier days anumber of open-air beer-gardens and booths had occupied the site whichfaces the northern side of the Tiergarten. It was not a long street. Thedirectory showed but fifty-six houses, several of which, I noticed, werestill beer-gardens. It appeared to be a fashionable thoroughfare, formost of the occupants were titled people. No. 3, I was interested tosee, was still noted as the Berlin office of _The Times_.
The last phrase in the message decidedly gave the number. _Two_ mustrefer to the number of the house: _third_ to the number of the floor,since practically all dwelling-houses in Berlin are divided off intoflats.
As for the "Achiles," I gave it up.
I looked at my watch. It was twenty past eleven: too late to begin mysearch that night. Then I suddenly realized how utterly exhausted I was.I had been two nights out of bed without sleep, for I had sat up on deckcrossing over to Holland, and the succession of adventures that hadbefallen me since I left London had driven all thought of weariness frommy mind. But now came the reaction and I felt myself yearning for a hotbath and for a nice comfortable bed. To go to an hotel at that hour ofnight, without luggage and with an American passport not in order, wouldbe to court disaster. It looked as though I should have to hang aboutthe cafes and night restaurants until morning, investigate the clue ofthe street called In den Zelten, and then get away from Berlin as fastas ever I could.
But my head was nodding with drowsiness. I must pull myself together. Idecided I would have some black coffee, and I raised my eyes to find thewaiter. They fell upon the pale face and elegant figure of the one-armedofficer I had met at the Casino at Goch ... the young lieutenant theyhad called Schmalz.
He had just entered the cafe and was standing at the door, looking abouthim. I felt a sudden pang of uneasiness at the sight of him, for Iremembered his cross-examination of me at Goch. But I could not escapewithout paying my bill; besides, he blocked the way.
He settled my doubts and fears by walking straight over to my table.
"Good evening, Herr Doktor," he said
in German, with his pleasant smile."This indeed is an unexpected pleasure! So you are seeing how we poorGermans are amusing ourselves in war-time. You must admit that we do nottake our pleasures sadly. You permit me?"
Without waiting for my reply, he sat down at my table and ordered aglass of beer.
"I wish you had appeared sooner," I exclaimed in as friendly a tone as Icould muster, "for I am just going. I have had a long and tiring journeyand am anxious to go to an hotel."
Directly I had spoken I realized my blunder.
"You have not got an hotel yet?" said Schmalz. "Why, how curious! Norhave I! As you are a stranger in Berlin, you must allow me to appointmyself your guide. Let us go to an hotel together, shall we?"
I wanted to demur, difficult as it was to find any acceptable excuse,but his manner was so friendly, his offer seemed so sincere, that I feltmy resolution wavering. He had a winning personality, this frank,handsome boy. And I was so dog-tired!
He perceived my reluctance but also my indecision.
"We'll go to any hotel you like," he said brightly. "But you Americansare spoilt in the matter of luxurious hotels, I know. Still, I tell youwe have not much to learn in that line in Berlin. Suppose we go to theEsplanade. It's a fine hotel ... the Hamburg American line run it, youknow. I am very well known there, quite the _Hauskind_ ... my uncle wasa captain of one of their liners. They will make us very comfortable:they always give me a little suite, bedroom, sitting-room and bath, veryreasonably: I'll make them do the same for you."
If I had been less weary--I have often thought since--I would have gotup and fled from the cafe rather than have countenanced any such madproposal. But I was drunk with sleep heaviness and I snatched at thischance of getting a good night's rest, for I felt that, under the aegisof this young officer, I could count on any passport difficulties at thehotel being postponed until morning. By that time, I meant to be out ofthe hotel and away on my investigations.
So I accepted Schmalz's suggestion.
"By the way," I said, "I have no luggage. My bag got mislaid somehow atthe station and I don't really feel up to going after it to-night."
"I will fix you up," the other replied promptly, "and with pyjamas inthe American fashion. By the by," he added, lowering his voice, "Ithought it better to speak German. English is not heard gladly inBerlin just now."
"I quite understand," I said. Then, to change the subject, which I didnot like particularly, I added:
"Surely, you have been very quick in coming down from the frontier. Didyou come by train?"
"Oh, no!" he answered. "I found that the car in which you drove to thestation ... it belonged to the gentleman who came to meet you, youknow ... was being sent back to Berlin by road, so I got the driver togive me a lift."
He said this quite airily, with his usual tone of candour. But for amoment I regretted my decision to go to the Esplanade with him. What ifhe knew more than he seemed to know?
I dismissed the suspicion from my mind.
"Bah!" I said to myself, "you are getting jumpy. Besides, it is too lateto turn back now!"
We had a friendly wrangle as to who should pay for the drinks, and itended in my paying. Then, after a long wait, we managed to get a cab, anantique-looking "growler" driven by an octogenarian in a coat of manycapes, and drove to the Esplanade.
It was a regular palace of a place, with a splendid vestibule with wallsand pavement of different-hued marbles, with palm trees over-shadowinga little fountain tinkling in a jade basin, with servants in gaudyliveries. The reception clerk overwhelmed me with the cordiality of hiswelcome to my companion and "the American gentleman," and after acertain amount of coquettish protestations about the difficulty ofproviding accommodation, allotted us a double suite on the entresol,consisting of two bedrooms with a common sitting-room and bathroom.
In his immaculate evening dress, he was a Beau Brummell among hotelclerks, that man. The luggage of the American gentleman should befetched in the morning. The gentleman's papers? There was no hurry: theHerr Leutnant would explain to his friend the forms that had to befilled in: they could be given to the waiter in the morning. Would thegentlemen take anything before retiring? A whisky-soda--ah! whisky wasgetting scarce. No? Nothing? He had the honour to wish the gentlemenpleasant repose.
We went to the lift in procession, Beau Brummell in front, then awaiter, then ourselves and the gold-braided hall porter bringing up therear. One or two people were sitting in the lounge, attended by aplatoon of waiters. The whole place gave an impression of wealth andluxury altogether out of keeping with British ideas of the stringency oflife in Germany under the British blockade. I could not help reflectingto myself mournfully that Germany did not seem to feel the pinch verymuch.
At the lift the procession bowed itself away and we went up in charge ofthe liftman, a gorgeous individual who looked like one of the Pope'sSwiss Guards. We reached the centresol in an instant. The Lieutenant ledthe way along the dimly lighted corridor.
"Here is the sitting-room," he said, opening a door. "This is my room,this the bathroom, and this," he flung open the fourth door, "is yourroom!"
He stood aside to let me pass. The lights in the room were full on. Inan arm-chair a big man in an overcoat was sitting.
He had a heavy square face and a clubfoot.
The Man with the Clubfoot Page 9
