immediately act like a movie. We were just going back to the Friedrich
Strasse Station to meet the next train from Neustadt when your
friend Bleuer came with the note. A nice boy too. Congratulations.”
Bleuer stuck out his chest and blushed.
“Now, then,” continued Pony. “Mother and Father and Grandmother are
waiting at home, having brainstorms trying to figure out what really
is the matter with you. Of course, we didn’t tell them anything. I
just stopped Bleuer in front of the house and skipped off a little.
But I must go right back home. Or else they’ll be calling the police.
Because, another child lost on the self-same day—that would be more
than their nerves could stand.”
“Here is the groschen for the return trip,” said Bleuer, very proud.
“We saved it.” The Professor put the money away.
“Were they cross?” asked Emil.
“Not a bit,” answered Pony. “Grandmother galloped around the room
crying, ‘Grandson Emil has just gone to make a call on the President,’
until Mother and Father quieted her down. But you’ll have the guy by
to-morrow, I hope? Who is your Sherlock Holmes?”
“Here,” said Emil, “that is the Professor.”
“So pleased, Professor,” declared Pony, “to meet a real detective at
last.”
The Professor laughed sheepishly and stuttered a few unintelligible
words.
“And now,” said Pony, “here is my pocket money, fifty-five
pfennigs. Buy yourself some cigars.”
Emil took the money. Pony sat like the queen of beauty on her throne,
and the boys stood around her like the judges.
“And now I must make myself scarce,” said Pony Hütchen. “I’ll be here
early to-morrow. Where are you going to sleep? Gee, but I’d like to
stay here and make your coffee in the morning. But what can you do?
A woman’s place is in the home. So long. See you later, gentlemen.
Good-night, Emil!”
She gave Emil a clap on the shoulder, jumped on her wheel, tinkled the
bell gayly, and rolled away.
The detectives stood for some time speechless.
Finally the Professor opened his mouth and said, “Great gosh!”
And the others agreed heartily.
Eleventh Chapter
A Spy Slips into the Hotel
Time passed slowly.
Emil visited the three outposts and wanted to relieve one of them. But
Krummbiegel and the two Mittenzweys announced that they were staying.
Whereupon Emil ventured very cautiously to the Hôtel Kreid, picked up
the latest bulletins, and returned to the courtyard in great excitement.
“I have the feeling,” he said, “that something must be done. We
can’t leave the hotel all night without anyone to watch. To be sure,
Krummbiegel is standing at the corner of Kleist Street. But he only
has to turn his head, and Grundeis can go flying off in the other
direction.”
“That is all very well,” returned Gustav. “But we can’t just run to the
porter and say, ‘Listen, we’re just going to sit here on these steps.’
And you yourself certainly can’t go into the building. If the guy
should poke his head out of his door and recognize you, the whole
performance so far would be no good.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” answered Emil.
“What then?”
“Well, there’s a boy in the hotel. The one who runs the elevator and
such. If one of us should go to him and tell him what’s up—he knows the
hotel like his own vest pocket. He’ll surely have a good idea.”
“Good,” said the Professor, “that’s fine.” He had a comical habit of
acting as though he were giving out marks to the others. That was why
he was called the Professor.
“This Emil—another hunch like that and we’ll make him the mayor. As
smart as a Berliner,” cried Gustav.
“Don’t imagine that you’re the only smart ones!” Emil was emphatic. He
felt his pride in Neustadt wounded.
“Anyway, we still have a fight to finish.”
“What for?” asked the Professor.
“Well, he made fun of my best suit.”
“The fight can come off to-morrow,” the Professor decided, “to-morrow
or not at all.”
“Oh, the suit isn’t so bad. I’m getting used to it,” Gustav declared
good-naturedly. “But we can fight, anyway. Only you might as well take
notice that I am the champion of the gang. So watch out!”
“And in school I am the best of any weight,” boasted Emil.
“It’s terrible the way you brag of your muscles,” said the Professor.
“I’d really like to go over into the hotel myself. But I can’t leave
you two alone a minute, because you always start a fight.”
“Then I’ll go!” broke in Gustav.
“Right,” said the Professor, “you go! And talk to the boy. But be
careful! Perhaps something can be done. Find out for sure what room the
fellow is in. In an hour come back and bring the information.”
Gustav vanished.
The Professor and Emil paced back and forth before the door and talked
to each other about their teachers. Then the Professor picked out the
differences between the German and foreign license plates that went by
until Emil understood a little about them. And then they thoughtfully
ate a sandwich together.
By this time it was dark. Electric ads flamed everywhere. The elevated
thundered overhead. The subway rumbled beneath. Street cars and motor
busses, private cars and motor cycles, made a crazy concert. Dance
music came from the Woerz Café. The movie theater on Nollendorf Place
began its last show. And many people crowded in.
“Such a big tree as that over by the station looks like a freak
here,” mused Emil. “It looks as if it had lost its way.” The boy was
enchanted and thrilled. And he almost forgot why he was there and that
he had lost a hundred and forty marks.
“Of course, Berlin is wonderful. You’d think you were sitting in a
movie. But I’m not sure whether I’d want to live here always. In
Neustadt we have an Upper Market and a Lower Market and a Station
Square! And the playgrounds by the river and in Amsel Park. That is
all. But still, Professor, I believe it is enough for me. Always such
a holiday racket, always a hundred thousand streets and squares? I’d
be lost all the time. Imagine if I didn’t have you with me and were
standing here all alone! It gives me the creeps to think of it.”
“You get used to it,” answered the Professor. “Probably I couldn’t
stand it in Neustadt, with its three squares and its Amsel Park.”
“You get used to it,” said Emil, “but Berlin is a great sight. No doubt
of it, Professor. Wonderful.”
“Is your mother really very strict?” asked the Berlin boy.
“My mother?” asked Emil. “Not a bit of it. She lets me do everything.
But I don’t. You understand?”
“No,” the Professor said frankly, “I don’t understand.”
“No? Well, then, I’ll tell you. Have your people much money?”
“I don’t know about that. We don’t talk much about it at home.”
“I guess, when people don’t talk much about it, it means they have
plenty of it.”
The Professor considered a moment and then admitted, “That is quite
likely.”
“You see. We often talk about it, my mother and I. We have very little.
And she has to keep on earning, and still there’s hardly ever enough to
make both ends meet. But when we have a class excursion my mother gives
me just as much money as any of the other boys get. Sometimes even
more.”
“How can she, though?”
“That I don’t know. But she can. And then I bring half of it back.”
“Does she want you to?”
“Silly! I want to!”
“Uhuh!” said the Professor. “That’s the way it is.”
“Yes, just like that. And if she lets me go out into the country with
Prötzsch, who lives upstairs, and stay until nine o’clock, I come back
by seven because I don’t want her to sit in the kitchen and eat her
supper alone. Of course, she wanted me to stay with the others. And
I tried it, too. But it wasn’t any fun. Anyway inside she is glad
that I come home early.”
“Uhm,” said the Professor, “it’s entirely different at our house. If I
really come home on time I can bet that they’ll be at the theater or
invited out somewhere. We like each other all right. I must say that.
But we don’t make any fuss about it.”
“That is the only thing we can afford. But that doesn’t make me a
mamma’s baby, not by a long shot. And if anybody doesn’t believe that,
I’ll smash him against the wall. That’s very simple to understand.”
“I do understand.”
The two boys stood for a while in the gateway without speaking. Night
came. And the moon peeped with one eye over the elevated.
The Professor cleared his throat and asked without looking at the
other, “You’re pretty fond of each other, aren’t you?”
“Frightfully,” answered Emil.
Twelfth Chapter
A Green Elevator Boy Bursts from His Cocoon
About ten o’clock a detachment of the guard appeared in the
courtyard, brought along enough sandwiches to feed a hundred hungry
men, and asked for further orders.
The Professor was much annoyed and explained that they had no business
there at all but should have waited at Nikolsburger Place for Traugott
the messenger from the telephone bureau.
“Don’t be so disgusting!” said Petzold. “Naturally we are simply
curious to know how things look here with you.”
“And besides, we thought something had happened to you because Traugott
never showed up,” Gerold added apologetically.
“How many are there still at Nikolsburger Place?” asked Emil.
“Four. Or, rather, three,” Friedrich the First corrected himself.
“There might even be only two,” added Gerold.
“Don’t ask them again,” cried the Professor angrily, “or they’ll say
next that there’s nobody there at all, now.”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t shout so,” said Petzold. “I don’t give a hoot
for being ordered around by you.”
“I move that Petzold be thrown out at once and that he is forbidden to
take any further part in the chase,” stormed the Professor, and stamped
his foot.
“I’m sorry that you two get mad at each other on my account,” said
Emil. “We ought to vote like the senate. I move that Petzold just be
given strict warning. Because, naturally, it isn’t possible for each
one of us to do just what he wants.”
“Think you’re smart, don’t you, you pigs. I’m going anyhow, if you want
to know.” Then Petzold added something terribly impolite and left.
“It was all his idea. Otherwise we certainly wouldn’t have come here,”
Gerold told them. “And Zerlett stayed back in the Reserve headquarters.”
“Not another word about Petzold,” commanded the Professor and already
he was talking quite calmly again. He took a firm grip on himself.
“Dismissed.”
“And now what becomes of us?” questioned Friedrich the First.
“It would be best for you to wait until Gustav comes back from the
hotel and makes a report,” Emil proposed.
“Good,” said the Professor. “Isn’t that the bell boy, there?”
“Yes, there he is,” agreed Emil.
In the gateway stood a boy in a green livery with a rakish green cap
at just the right angle on his head. He waved to the others and slowly
strolled nearer.
“He’s got a swell uniform, by thunder,” said Gerold enviously.
“Do you bring news of our spy Gustav?” called the Professor.
The boy was by this time quite close. He nodded and said, “Yes, indeed.”
“All right, what’s happened?” asked Emil eagerly.
Suddenly a horn tooted, and the green boy jumped around as if he’d lost
his senses—laughing all the while.
“Emil, man!” he called, “but you are dumb!”
Of course, it wasn’t the bell boy at all, but Gustav himself.
“You green rascal!” scolded Emil jokingly.
Then the others laughed too, until someone in one of the houses on
the court opened a window and shouted, “Quiet, down there!”
“Magnificent!” said the Professor. “But quieter, gentlemen. Come here,
Gustav, sit down and tell us all about it.”
“Man, it’s as good as a movie. It’s enough to make a cat laugh. Well,
then, listen! I slunk into the hotel, saw the bell boy standing around,
and gave him the high sign. He came over to me, and I told him the
whole story straight from A to Z. About Emil. And about us. And about
the thief. And that he was staying at the hotel. And that we had to
look sharp so that we could get the money off him again to-morrow.
“‘Fine!’ said the boy. ‘I have another uniform. You put it on and make
a second bell boy.’
“‘But what will the head porter say about that? He’ll surely tattle,’ I
answered.
“‘He won’t tell on us, he’ll let us,’ he said, ‘because the porter is
my father.’
“What he told his old man, I don’t know. Anyway, I got the uniform. I
can sleep in one of the empty servants’ rooms and even bring someone
else with me. Now, what do you say?”
“In what room is the thief staying?” asked the Professor.
“A fellow can’t ever get a rise out of you, can he?” said Gustav
disgruntled. “Naturally, I have no work to do. I must keep out of the
way. The boy guessed that the thief was rooming in Number 61. So I
ran up to the third story and played spy. So as not to attract any
attention, you understand. Waited behind banisters, and so on. After
about half an hour, sure enough, the door of 61 opened. And who came
bustling out? Our Mr. Thief. I had looked him over this afternoon. It
was our man, all right. Little black mustache, ears that the moon could
shine through, and a face that I wouldn’t take as a gift. As he came
down the hall I rolled out in front of his legs, stood at attention,
and asked him, ‘Are you looking for anything, sir?’
“‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t need anything. Or, wait a minute! You can tell
the clerk to call me at eight o’clock sharp to-morrow morning. Room 61.
Don’t forget!’
“‘No, you can depend on it, sir,’ I said, and pinched myself in the
pants I was so excited. ‘I won’t forget. At eight o’clock sharp the
telephone bell will ring in Room 61.’ They call people by telephone. He
nodded quietly and drifted back to his room.”
“Excellent!” The Professor was tremendously pleased, and the others too.
“At eight o’clock he’ll have a bodyguard waiting for him at the
hotel. Then the chase will go on. And then he’ll be trapped.”
“He is just as good as settled now,” called Gerold.
“Please omit flowers,” said Gustav. “And now I’ll chase off. I must put
a letter in the box for Number 12. A ten-cent tip. It’s a profitable
job. The bell boy gets as much as ten marks a day. So he says! Now,
then, about seven o’clock I’ll get up and take care that this guy is
waked on the dot. And then I’ll come back here.”
“Good boy, Gustav, I’m grateful to you,” said Emil solemnly. “Now
nothing more can happen. To-morrow he’ll be caught. And now we can all
go to sleep in peace, can’t we, Professor?”
“Certainly. Everybody digs out and goes to bed. And to-morrow morning,
eight o’clock sharp, all those present be back here. Anybody who can
drag out some money, do it. I’ll call up little Dienstag, now. He can
round up the others as reserves when they call him in the morning. We
may have to corral the man. You never can tell.”
“I’ll go with Gustav to sleep in the hotel,” said Emil.
“Let’s go, man! It will suit you right down to the ground. It’s superb!”
“I’ll telephone first,” planned the Professor. “Then I’ll go home
too and send Zerlett home. Otherwise he’ll wait till morning at
Nikolsburger Place for further orders. Is everything clear?”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Chief of Police,” laughed Emil.
“To-morrow, here in the court, at eight sharp,” said Gerold.
“Bring a little money,” reminded Friedrich the First.
They separated. First they all shook hands solemnly. Some marched
home. Gustav and Emil went into the hotel. The Professor crossed over
Nollendorf Place to telephone little Dienstag from the Café Hahnen.
And an hour later they were all asleep. Most of them in their beds. Two
in a servant’s room on the fourth floor of the Hôtel Kreid.
And one at the telephone in his father’s armchair. That was little
Dienstag. He did not desert his post. Traugott had gone home. But
little Dienstag didn’t stir from the telephone. He huddled down in the
cushions and slept and dreamed of four million telephone conversations.
At midnight his parents came home from the theater. They were surprised
to find their son in the armchair.
His mother picked him up and carried him to bed. He cuddled down and
murmured in his sleep. “Password, Emil!”
Thirteenth Chapter
Herr Grundeis Acquires a Guard of Honor
The windows of Room 61 overlooked Nollendorf Place. And next
morning Herr Grundeis noticed, as he was combing his hair, that there
seemed to be countless children wandering around there. At least two
dozen small boys were playing football before the grass plot in the
center of the square. Another group stood on Kleist Street. Children
were standing by the entrance to the subway.
“Evidently a holiday,” he grumbled as he put on his tie.
Meanwhile the Professor was holding a business meeting in the theater
court and scolding like an English sparrow.
“Here I crack my brains day and night on how to catch the man, and you
blockheads meanwhile mobilize the whole of Berlin. Perhaps we need an
audience? Maybe we’re making a movie? If the fellow slips through
our clutches it will be your fault, you gossiping old maids!”
The others stood patiently in a circle but did not seem to feel any
serious twinges of conscience. They were not worried, and Gerold said,
“Don’t get excited, Professor, we’ll get the thief one way or another.”
“Oh, get out, you silly nutcrackers! And see to it that the crowd
doesn’t spread itself all over the map and that it doesn’t watch the
hotel. Get that? Forward, march!”
The boys moved away, and only the detectives remained in the courtyard.
“I borrowed ten marks from the porter,” Emil informed them. “If the man
bolts we’ll have money enough to follow him.”
“Just send those children out there home again,” advised Krummbiegel.
“And do you really think they’d go? If Nollendorf Place should burst,
they’d stay!” said the Professor.
“Only one thing will help us,” announced Emil. “We must change our
plan. We can’t surround Grundeis with secret spies—instead we must
simply hunt him down. So that he’ll notice it. From all sides and with
all the children.”
“I’ve already thought of that too,” declared the Professor. “We
had best change our tactics and drive him into a corner until he has to
give himself up.”
“Marvelous,” shouted Gerold.
“He would much rather give the money back than have a hundred children
running and shrieking around him for hours till the whole city turns
out and the police grab him,” decided Emil.
The others nodded wisely. Just then a bell sounded in the gateway, and
Pony Hütchen wheeled beaming into the courtyard.
“Good-morning, detectives,” she called, jumped off her saddle, greeted
Cousin Emil, the Professor, and the others, and then produced a little
basket that she had tied to the handlebars. “I’ve brought you coffee,”
she crowed, “and a few buttered rolls. I even have a clean cup. Oh, the
handle is off! Something always goes wrong!”
Now, the boys had all had breakfast. Even Emil in the Hôtel Kreid. But
no one wanted to hurt the little girl’s feelings. So they drank coffee
and milk out of the cup without a handle and ate rolls as if they had
had nothing for four weeks.
“Umm—that tastes wonderful!” called Krummbiegel.
“And how crisp the rolls are!” mumbled the Professor, chewing loyally.
“Isn’t that so?” asked Pony. “Yes, it is always a bit different
when there is a woman in the house!”
“In the courtyard,” corrected Gerold.
“How are things in Schumann Street?” asked Emil.
“All right, thanks. And a special message from Grandmother. You’d
better come soon, or as a punishment you’ll have to eat fish every day.”
“Oh, the dickens,” murmured Emil and made a face.
“Why, the dickens?” Mittenzwey the younger wanted to know. “Fish is
good.” Everybody looked at him with amazement, as it was his habit
never to say a word. At that his face got fiery red, and he hid himself
behind his big brother.
“Emil can’t eat a bite of fish. If he tries it he has to leave the
room,” Pony Hütchen explained.
So they chatted and were all in a very good humor. The boys were
especially polite. The Professor held Pony’s wheel. Krummbiegel went
to wash out the thermos bottle and the cup. Mittenzwey, senior, folded
up the lunch paper very carefully. Emil fastened the basket back on
the handlebars. Gerold tested the tires to see if there was enough air
in them. And Pony Hütchen hopped around the courtyard, sang a song to
herself, and told them all sorts of things meanwhile.
“Wait!” she cried suddenly and halted on one foot. “I have to ask you
something. Why are there so frightfully many children out on
Nollendorf Place? It looks like a vacation camp.”
“They are inquisitive. They have heard about our criminal hunt. And now
they want to be in on it,” explained the Professor.
Just then Gustav came running toward the gate, honked loudly, and
shouted, “Quick! He’s coming!” Everybody tried to get out at once.
“Attention: listen,” shouted the Professor. “We’ll surround him on all
sides. Children behind him, children before him, children, left and
right! Is that clear? Further orders we’ll give as we go. March out!”
They leaped, ran, and stumbled out of the gate. Pony Hütchen alone
stayed behind, feeling a little bit offended. But then she swung
herself onto her tiny nickel wheel, muttering like her own grandmother,
“I don’t like the looks of this! I don’t like the looks of this,” and
followed after the boys.
The man in the stiff hat came to the hotel door, walked slowly down the
steps, and turned right toward Kleist Street. The Professor, Emil, and
Gustav hurried their messengers here and there among the various groups
of children. And three minutes later Herr Grundeis was surrounded.
He looked about on all sides, utterly bewildered. The youngsters were
talking, laughing, jostling each other, and keeping step with him.
Many of them stared at the man until he became embarrassed and looked
straight ahead again.
Ssst! a ball flew right by his head. He jumped and quickened his pace.
But immediately the children walked just as much faster. He tried to
turn off suddenly into a side street. But another troop of youngsters
came streaming after him.
“Man, he has a face, as if he wanted to sneeze,” called Gustav.
“Run a little ahead of me,” advised Emil. “He ought not to recognize me
yet. He’ll be up against that soon enough.”
Gustav threw back his shoulders and strode before Emil like a boxer who
is so muscle-bound he can hardly move. Pony Hütchen rode alongside the
procession and tinkled her bell happily.
The man in the stiff hat was noticeably nervous. He had a dark
foreboding of what was coming to him, and he strode along with giant
steps. But it was of no use. He could not escape his enemies.
Suddenly he stopped stock still, as if nailed to the spot, turned
around, and ran back down the street he had just come up. The assembled
children turned too, and the order of march was continued in the
opposite direction.
Then a small boy—it was Krummbiegel—ran across in front of the man
so that he stumbled.
“What’s the matter with you, you young jackanapes?” he shouted, “I am
going to call the police at once.”
“Oh, yeh, please do!” jeered Krummbiegel. “We’ve been waiting for that
a long time. Just call them up!”
Herr Grundeis had no idea of calling them—quite the contrary. The
situation was growing more uncomfortable for him every minute. He
began to have unmistakable fears, and he did not know which way to
turn. Already people were looking out of all the windows. Already the
shopgirls were running out in front of the shops with their customers
and asking what was happening. If a policeman should come now it would
be all up with him.
Then the thief had an inspiration. He noticed a branch of the
Commercial and Private Bank. He broke through the chain of children,
hurried up to the door, and disappeared.
The Professor sprang to the door and yelled, “Gustav and I follow him.
Emil stays here, meanwhile. When Gustav honks things can start. Then
Emil comes in with ten boys. Hunt for the right ones, meanwhile, Emil.
It’s going to be a ticklish business.”
Then Gustav and the Professor vanished through the door.
Emil’s ears drummed with his heartbeats. Now the affair must be
settled. He called Krummbiegel, Gerold, the Mittenzwey brothers, and a
few others, and ordered that the rest should scatter.
The children retreated a few steps from the bank building, but not far.
They would not miss on any account what was about to happen.
Pony Hütchen asked a boy to hold her wheel and stepped up to Emil.
“Here I am,” she said. “Head high. It’s getting serious now. Goodness,
I’m as nervous as a witch!”
“Do you think perhaps I’m not?” queried Emil.
Fourteenth Chapter
Pins Have Their Good Points Too
When Gustav and the Professor entered the bank the man in the
stiff hat was already standing at a cage on which was a sign, “Paying
and Receiving Teller.” He was waiting impatiently for his turn to come.
The bank clerk was telephoning.