When Engel had finished the cashier turned to him, and the dullness of his eyes brightened just a trifle.
“Your orders will be large ones, presumably?” he asked.
“From 100,000 to 150,000 marks’ worth.”
“Hm! well, then you of course will excuse me if I make my investigations as to what security your firm offers for such a large sum.”
“Naturally. The German Bank in Hamburg, which is in constant connection with our London house, will give you all information. Besides this, it is our custom to pay cash on all our orders.”
The cashier wrote down a few notes. Even in the most important houses the prospect of orders of such size would have awakened considerable interest and attention. Juritz remained absolutely calm.
“We are very appreciative of your coming to us, Mr. Engel. You may be sure that if we do close our dealings, we will serve you in the best manner. I am taking for granted that you will remain here for several days? Then you will perhaps come at this time to-morrow? I will report to my chief and will ask that he see you himself.”
* * *
—
Late that afternoon the Behrend carriage drove past the Inn. It contained Mr. Juritz and another gentleman.
“Aha! the secret agent,” cried the landlord, who stood at the window with Engel.
“The secret agent?” repeated the stranger.
“The one they sent us from Kiel, I mean, the criminal official. He’s driving with Juritz.”
“Are they out for fun?”
“Probably. Or they may have found a new clew. They have been driving around through all the villages in the neighborhood for the last week. The local authorities watch every man who comes or goes from any of these places.”
“Hm! Mr. Juritz and his companion take things easy,” said Engel. “I think I’ll take a little walk myself,” he added, and went out, turning his steps towards the Behrend house. When he had learned that the head of the firm was at home, he sent in his card and was received at once.
Mr. Behrend arose at his entrance and, after greeting him, pointed to an inviting-looking armchair which stood beside his large desk.
“My representative has told me of the very flattering connections that you may possibly make with us. Permit me to give you my thanks, and to say that we will endeavor to show our appreciation of your confidence in every way.”
The old gentleman’s manner and tone were so full of quiet dignity that his visitor felt drawn to him at once. Behrend, Sr., was not particularly imposing in appearance, not quite so much so as Engel had imagined he should be as the head of a great enterprise, and a self-made man. But the high forehead and clear eyes of the delicate looking man of scarcely medium height had an expression of such high intelligence that it was quite easy to understand his success.
“May I ask your permission to drop business for to-day?” asked Engel. “I am come now to tell you of my sincere sympathy for you in this unfortunate affair which has recently happened in your house. During the past few weeks I have been traveling a great deal, and while in Paris chance brought me together with the head of the Hamburg firm, Lachmann & Co. From them I heard much about you and your splendid business; of course they knew nothing then of this unfortunate robbery. I learned of it first here and wish to assure you of my sympathy.”
Behrend gave him his hand.
“Many thanks. Yes, fate has dealt hardly with me. I do not understand it at all yet myself. It may even remain a riddle forever—in fact, I do not know whether I perhaps myself do not wish that it may. So you met Lachmann in Paris? I have known him from my youth and have just now requested his brother, who, as you may know, is the head of the Hamburg police force, to send me a capable official who may be able to throw some light on this sad affair. I am sorry to say that the official who has been chosen cannot be expected before Monday or Tuesday—several days more without any help, therefore.”
Behrend shook his gray head. It was evident that the affair depressed him deeply. There was something almost pathetically helpless in his attitude when speaking about it.
“Yes, I know the brother is senator. I have known the family for years, through our London house. I met the senator’s daughter—his only child, I believe—a couple of years ago in Heligoland. She is a young lady of unusual beauty, and I believe of great character also. She was just nineteen years old then.”
A charming smile brightened Behrend’s face.
“Yes, indeed,” he said, “Hedwig Lachmann is a sweet child, pure, and true as gold.”
Behrend continued the conversation about the family of his friend for some little time, and Engel, who seemed to know them all very well, won his confidence rapidly. He came back, finally, to the question of the robbery, and was able to put the old gentleman through what was almost a cross-examination without his realizing it.
“And you have no suspicion of anybody?” he asked.
“How should I? I believe firmly that none of my employees could have had anything to do with it. The official from Kiel joins me in this opinion, as does my cashier. But in spite of this Juritz has made researches among the men, very carefully but very thoroughly, without any result however—or with one result, at least, that we now know that our confidence has not been deceived.”
“That would, indeed, be a cause for rejoicing. Have they found any clew on the outside?”
“Not the slightest.”
“And the thieves left nothing behind them that might betray them?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“Ah, indeed! that certainly does look like professional work. The case begins to interest me. Might I see the safe, Mr. Behrend; I mean the damaged one?”
Behrend rose at once and led his guest into the strong room. The offices were empty, only the servant Franz was busy in one of the rooms.
The safe still stood where it had been pushed out from the wall. The back had been literally torn apart. Engel recognized at once that it had been done by the strongest sort of instruments used by professional thieves. He noticed one thing: the fact that of the two compartments used for money, which were closed with their own particular doors, only one had been opened. Had the thief known that the currency was kept in this compartment? or had it been mere chance that led him to this place first? In this case he might have had enough in the rich booty that he found there, and did not care to seek further. Engel was so lost in thought that the manufacturer had to repeat his request that they might now drop this unpleasant theme.
“I suppose you feel the same as I do,” said Behrend, smiling. “I had never seen anything like that before, and the sight fascinated me. But now come with me and do me the honor to take supper with us. My wife will join with me in greeting you as our guest.”
* * *
—
The large drawing-room was full of warm comfort. Engel’s glance fell again and again on the superb lace curtains that hung before the high windows.
“Those are really quite the handsomest curtains I have ever seen,” he said finally. “The design is superb and the workmanship really remarkable. I must congratulate you; they are your own manufacture, I suppose?”
“Yes, indeed, and they are the pride of my good Juritz. The design was made for the Russian Prince Perkalow, and has not been put on the market at all. There in the middle, where you see my monogram, the other specimens have the monogram of the prince, with his coronet. With the permission of the prince I kept back two pieces of the original set, which I hoped to exhibit sometime. But it was just these curtains that our friend the robber took with him. The gentleman certainly has artistic taste, has he not?”
The examination of the factory next morning took about an hour. Juritz was a good leader and explained everything clearly. Engel listened and looked in silence, showing his attention by an occasional single word or nod. He bade farewell to the cashier an
d sent in his card to the head of the firm. Mr. Behrend was engaged and the visitor had to wait in an anteroom. On the table here lay an album, which he began to study with interest. The large volume held at least five hundred photographs, evidently employees of the firm. Engel turned the leaves hastily. On the first page was a large picture of the chief, all by itself. Then, on the next side, not Juritz’s face as he had hoped, but that of someone unknown to him. They were evidently arranged according to time of service. Engel turned over the next leaf. Yes, there it was, Juritz’s characteristic countenance. With a quick motion Engel removed the picture from the book and slipped it into his pocket. Then he called the servant; “I am afraid I should only disturb Mr. Behrend now. Tell him that I can come to-morrow morning just as well.”
He left the building and went to the railway station. “Second-class, Kiel, excursion.” He arrived at noon and went at once to the police station.
When he had sent in his card he explained: “I am a friend of the firm Behrend & Son, and would like to take some more active interest in the researches into this mysterious robbery. I believe I have discovered a clew and would like to put in a request for official aid. Should I be mistaken, nothing need be said about it; but if I am not mistaken, the police can only be grateful to me. What I have discovered is this: One of the employees of the firm—his name need not be mentioned as yet—is frequently absent from Neuenfelde, and is said to be here in Kiel, on pleasure bent. He leaves Saturday evening and returns Sunday evening or very early Monday morning. From hints let drop by people in Neuenfelde, I understand that the gentleman leads a rather gay life here, and to discover the truth of this is the reason for my coming. Here is his photograph. I would ask that you would let it circulate among your officials that we may find out whether any one of them has ever seen the gentleman, and where.”
The picture wandered from hand to hand through the rooms until finally a policeman declared that he had seen the gentleman not very long ago—two or three Sundays past perhaps, in the restaurant Wriedt, where he was frequently stationed. The gentleman was there with a lady.
“Did you know the lady?” asked Engel.
“No, sir.”
“She was not one of the gay world?”
“I think not, sir. She was very well dressed, but not in any way conspicuous.”
Engel took an official with him and started out for the restaurant. And here he let the picture circulate again. In a few moments one of the waiters declared decidedly that he knew the gentleman, and that he also knew the name of the lady: “Lore Düfken.” He had often heard her called Lore, and once when the gentleman had introduced her to someone else, he had heard her last name. He had remembered it because it was so like his own, which was Düfke.
“Does the gentleman spend much money here?” asked the police official.
“He has a couple of bottles of wine usually, and he orders champagne occasionally, but his bills are no larger than those of many others.”
It was easy to discover the address of the lady in question through the official Census Lists.
“Since you are acting on a mere suspicion,” the official said to his energetic companion, “you had better be very careful. What excuse will you use to enter the apartment?”
Engel smiled. “That is very simple. When going up the stairs I will remember any one of the names on the doors and ask for information about the owner of it. Don’t you think you could use me in your business?”
“Don’t be too sure of yourself. I will wait at the next corner there, in the cigar store.”
Engel climbed the stairs and rang the bell at the door upon which stood the name “B. Düfken, widow.”
An elderly woman opened the door.
“Have I the honor of speaking to Mrs. Düfken?”
“Yes, what may I——” She interrupted herself and looked sharply at the gentleman, whose decidedly aristocratic appearance made her appear to doubt whether it was proper to let him stand outside the door. “Won’t you please come in? I will be at your service in a moment.”
Engel entered a little reception room, the attractive furnishing of which held his attention at once. The question arose in his mind as to where all these evidences of riches came from. The furniture, in English style, was noticeably new. The chairs and tables, the upholstery, were perfect in finish. The only part of the room that showed any use at all was the heavy carpet. The ladies who lived here must be very well off—or else this extravagant outfit was very much out of place and was not here by right or reason. This last opinion grew more decided in Engel’s mind when the woman entered again and he could see her in the clear light of the room. There was nothing refined or aristocratic in her appearance, her manner was awkward, her clothing very ordinary. She was one of a kind that could be seen by the hundred anywhere, a woman brought up in quite other surroundings than these, and who had evidently not yet been able to adapt herself to affluence.
Engel carried out his purpose and asked about the gentleman who lived on the floor below. The old lady was evidently a gossip, and had so much to say about her neighbor that it was very easy for her visitor to lengthen the time of his stay and to win her confidence. When he could find absolutely nothing more to say about the gentleman on the floor below, he began to compliment the woman on her beautiful home.
“My dear madame,” he said with apparent eagerness, “if I were not afraid of asking too much of your kindness I would make still one more request. Would you be kind enough to show a stranger like myself the other rooms of your charming home, which I know are just as attractive as this one?”
The woman smiled, evidently flattered. “Why, of course, if it really interests you,” she said.
“But please do not do it if it disturbs you in the least,” said Engel in polite entreaty.
She opened a side door. “This is our finest room, our drawing-room.” She led Engel into a large corner room, which was furnished and decorated throughout in rococo style. It was all of the very best, and quite expensive enough to be absolutely out of keeping with the owner of it.
In the next room they found a young woman in a white house-gown, who turned her bright brown eyes on the stranger in curiosity, and then quickly pushed aside her work, which covered almost half the floor, so that they might enter. The young lady, evidently the daughter of the other woman, was very pretty, slender, and graceful, with a delicate face and attractive expression. Her movements were extremely elastic and noticeably graceful, so much so that she would have attracted Engel’s attention had his eyes not fallen on the curtain spread on the floor. It was a heavy lace curtain of richest design and workmanship. A similar—no, the identical design of those he had seen in the Villa Behrend! And there, half ripped out, was a monogram with a coronet.
Engel had to struggle for control. “My dear young lady,” he said, “I must beg your pardon for this invasion. I am afraid I have disturbed you.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” answered the girl, with a sweet, rich voice. She noticed the interest with which her visitor looked at the curtain and she continued with a laugh, “Isn’t it pretty? but look at this coronet here! What should we want with a coronet? I am just ripping it out, and it’s no easy work, I assure you!”
“The curtains are a present, I suppose?”
“Yes, my fiancé gave them to me. The design was made for some foreign prince, and he is the only one, besides us, who has such curtains—except a thief who stole the last samples from the factory. Nice sort of company to be in, isn’t it?” She said the words quite harmlessly, with a touch of humor.
“Stolen?” asked Engel.
“Yes, last Saturday, my fiancé—but no one knows of our engagement as yet—sent these curtains here, and during the night from Sunday to Monday, the last two samples were stolen from the factory, when the safe was robbed.”
“A safe robbery? How interesting!” asked En
gel, as if in surprise.
“Why, yes, in the house of Behrend & Son, in Neuenfelde. Hadn’t you heard of it? The papers were full of it.” And she told her visitor all she knew about the robbery, in her interest letting the fact escape her that her fiancé’s name was Juritz.
* * *
—
In the autumn of the following year the wedding of young Behrend with the daughter of Senator Lachmann was celebrated, and a most welcome guest at the festivities was Commissioner Wolff, now called by his colleagues in the office, “The Angel (Engel) of the Lace Curtains.”
AMERICAN STORIES
The Purloined Letter
EDGAR ALLAN POE
With the publication of “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” (1841), the first pure detective story ever written, Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849) opened the door to the most important literary genre of the ensuing two centuries. Although that work takes pride of place for its historical significance, his mystery masterpiece was “The Purloined Letter” (1844).
While his first story was rather melodramatic, and his second, “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt” (1842–1843) broke ground as the first story to feature an armchair detective when C. Auguste Dupin solved the crime merely by the use of ratiocination, his third combined the strength of both previous tales. It remains one of the handful of classic detective stories that can be used to illustrate the qualities of the perfect tale.
Edgar Poe was born in Boston and orphaned around the age of two, when both of his parents died of tuberculosis in 1811. He was taken in by a wealthy merchant, John Allan, and his wife; although never legally adopted, Poe nonetheless took Allan for his name. He received a classical education in England from 1815 to 1820. After returning to the United States, he published his first book, Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827). It, and his next two volumes of poetry, were financial disasters.
The Big Book of Victorian Mysteries Page 104
