Herr von Brandt would never recover, knowing that no one but himself knew what had happened, he kept that thing for himself, exploited it as his own.”
At last the curtain had fallen. The actors on stage relaxed but they didn’t come out in the wings. They knew by now that they’d have to give one, two, three, four, five more calls. Eddie was hovering behind us, watching the stage with the conscious pride of a father.
“The only danger,” Lenz was continuing, “lay with Herr Wessler. If he happened to remember that he had seen this man at the Thespian Hospital, it was possible for him, by putting two and two together, to arrive at the truth. That is why he was attacked. That is why Mr. Kramer, who knew him well, who had guessed this precious secret, had also to be killed. Surely you see now, Mr. Duluth. What could a man have stolen from Von Brandt in a sanitorium? What could it have been that Von Brandt, who was passionately devoted to his brother, would have held too precious even to pass on to Herr Wessler?”
“I…” I began.
Vaguely I heard voices now from the other side of the curtain, voices rising above the applause. They were shouting:
“Directorr
That sent the blood zipping through my veins. Mira-belle was dashing toward me. I tried to hold back; I didn’t really mean it, but I tried. She pulled me forward, however. Eddie signaled for the curtain to be raised. And I was there, in the middle of the cast, holding Mirabelle’s hand on my right and Theo’s on my left. Everyone was clapping; someone was cheering. I bowed. I kissed Mira-belle. I kissed Theo. The curtain stayed up.
Peter Duluth had his come-back all right. Oh boy, he had his come-back.
The curtain dropped. I returned to Lenz. He was still standing in the wings with Eddie, Inspector Clarke and Henry at his side.
Lenz said: “Well, Mr. Duluth, have you not guessed my little riddle?”
“No,” I said. “No, I haven’t. God, I’m so happy. Hell, I’m so happy.”
Lenz said: “Think, Mr. Duluth. What was Herr Von
Brandt’s one ambition in life? What caused his temporary loss of reason because it was denied to him? Think.”
I tried to think. I swear I tried to think. But they were still clapping and stamping outside in the house. Once again they were shouting. At first I couldn’t get the words. Then, gradually, they became distinct.
“Author! We want the author. We want the author.”
I swung round to Henry. I gripped him by the shoulder. I was glad as hell he could get his break too.
“Come on, Henry, my boy,” I said. “Come on. Your public wants you.”
I started to drag him forward. Clarke and Lenz came with me. I was about to step up onto the stage when, suddenly, I froze in my steps.
They were still wildly calling for the author. The curtain was zooming up. Mirabelle, Gerald and Theo had all scuttled out into the far wings. One person was there on the stage alone. One man, in tattered denim, bowing to the audience.
They clapped; they clapped him like hell. But still some of them kept shouting for the author. Von Brandt raised his hand. Instantly the place was silent as a grave.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “in the name of all the company I wish to thank you for your so very kind appreciation. For myself, I cannot speak the happiness which is in me. That you should have taken me so to your hearts when before you know so little of me—how can I say but to let you know that after times which have been tragic and terrible I can now say that life is good for me again. That is all I wish.”
I still had my hand on Henry’s shoulder, ready to push him forward. But I was carried away by the little, halting speech. It meant so much, so horribly much more to me than it could ever have meant to the audience.
“There is one thing more,” said Von Brandt. “I offer you great thanks that you should like this play. In Austria I wrote many plays which have had a little success; but this play, she has never been acted in Vienna. She is something, I hope, so much finer than these others which always were to me an apprenticeship. I am proud indeed to have my best play first performed to you people here in the United States. I thank you—as an actor and as an author, I thank you.”
For a second I couldn’t move. I couldn’t really think. The whole universe seemed to have gone nuts. “What the hell…?” I began.
Lenz’s voice broke in quietly. “You have heard the solution to the conundrum now, Mr. Duluth. This is what was stolen from Herr Von Brandt. He wanted to act in this play so badly that he did not even let his brother know he had written it. He was afraid that what had happened before would happen again, that once the world saw the script, Herr Wessler would inevitably play the leading role. Von Brandt kept the play secret from everyone until he feared he was going mad. Then he entrusted it to the only person he had at hand—the attendant at the hospital who took care of him, who spoke English but who understood German, the man who translated it, adapted it to a Pennsylvania Dutch setting and sold it as his own.”
The curtain had fallen for the last time. The applause was fading into a slight throb in the distance. Wolfgang von Brandt was crossing the stage toward us, his face radiant.
“It is clear surely why Mr. Prince was so frightened of Herr Wessler. Should Wessler have identified him with his brother’s attendant at the hospital, it would not be difficult for him to guess the actual origin of this play which had so much in it that must inevitably have been reminiscent of Von Brandt’s other works.”
“But,” I faltered, “but, but, but…”
Stupidly I turned to Henry Prince. His skin was the color of chalk. His lips were twisted in a thin, fatuous smile.
But I saw all that only vaguely. For I was actually looking at his right wrist. It was attached to that of Inspector Clarke by a pair of gleaming steel handcuffs.
“Yes,” Lenz was saying: “It was clever of Mr. Prince to put you off the trail by that plausible story of Kramer’s blackmailing him because of his father. It was clever of him to keep away from rehearsal as much as possible so that Wessler would have less chance of recognizing him. It…”
“Peter!” Iris suddenly descended upon us. She was looking wild and disheveled. She hurled herself into my arms. “It’s all over, Peter. At last it’s all over. And it’s a success. There’s nothing to stop us now. Right away, we’ll get into a car; we’ll drive South; we’ll go to Elkton and get married.”
I kissed some indeterminate part of her ear. I said, “Darling, you made an honest man of me exactly nineteen hours ago. Remember?”
She broke away from me, staring from very wide, dark eyes.
“My God,” she said, “so we have. And I forgot…”
[1] “I am your brother. Do you understand? Your brother…”
[2] “So that’s it, Konrad, you have come back. You have come back to steal my part. I might have known it.”
Puzzle for Players Page 26
