ruefully. “It’s no wonder. When Mother and I bought them yesterday
at Stamnitzen’s they were perfectly fresh.”
“I’m sure they were, I’m sure they were,” said the grandmother as she
put the wilted flowers in water.
“Perhaps they’ll freshen up,” comforted Aunt Martha. “There, and now we
will have dinner. Your uncle won’t be home until evening. Pony, set the
table!”
“All right,” said the little girl.
“Emil, what are we going to have?”
“No idea.”
“What do you like best?”
“Macaroni with ham.”
“Well, then, you know what we are going to have.”
It is true that Emil had eaten macaroni with ham just the day before.
But in the first place one can stand eating his favorite dish almost
every day. And in the second place, it seemed to Emil as if at least
a whole week had gone by since yesterday’s dinner with his mother in
Neustadt. And he dug into the macaroni as if he were Herr Grundeis
Müller Kiessling himself.
After the meal Emil and Pony ran down into the street for a while, as
the boy wanted to try Pony’s little nickel-plated wheel. Grandmother
lay down on the sofa. And Aunt Martha baked an applecake. Her
applecakes were famous in the whole family.
Emil rolled through Schumann Street. And Pony ran after him,
holding fast to the saddle. She maintained she had to, or her cousin
would fly away. Then Emil had to get off, and she turned circles and
threes and eights for him.
Suddenly a policeman appeared who carried a portfolio and inquired,
“Children, do the Heimbolds live here in Number 15?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Pony. “We’re Heimbolds. One minute, Officer.” She
shut her wheel in the cellar.
“Is there something wrong?” wondered Emil. He couldn’t help thinking of
that plagued Jeschke.
“Quite the contrary. Are you the boy Emil Tischbein?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Um, well, you can congratulate yourself!”
“Who has a birthday?” asked Pony, returning.
But the policeman told them nothing. Instead he climbed up the stairs.
Aunt Martha led him into the living room. The grandmother woke and
got up, filled with curiosity. Emil and Pony stood by the table, much
excited.
“It’s this way,” said the policeman as he opened the portfolio. “The
thief that the schoolboy Emil Tischbein helped to catch early this
morning has been identified as a bank robber from Hanover who has been
wanted for four weeks. This thief had stolen a great deal of
money. And our identification bureau have given him over for trial.
“Besides that, he has made a confession. They got back most of the
money, which was sewed in the lining of his clothes. Nothing but
thousand-mark notes.”
“Holy cats!” said Pony Hütchen.
“The bank,” continued the officer, “has been offering a reward for the
last two weeks to anyone who could trace the man.
“And as you,” he turned to Emil, “have caught the man, you get the
reward. The police commissioner sends his regards and is happy to know
that your ability can be rewarded in this way.”
Emil made a bow.
Then the officer took a bundle of notes from his portfolio and
counted them out on the table. Aunt Martha, who was watching closely,
whispered, “A thousand marks!”
“Good gracious!” cried Pony. “I give up.”
Grandmother signed a receipt. Then the policeman left. But before he
went Aunt Martha gave him a big glass of cherry brandy out of Uncle’s
cupboard.
Emil sat down beside his grandmother and could not say a word. The old
woman put her arm around him and said, shaking her head, “It is just
unbelievable! It is just unbelievable!”
Pony Hütchen jumped upon a chair, started to beat time as if she
were leading a chorus, and sang, “Now we’ll invite, now we’ll invite,
all the other boys for a party.”
“Yes,” said Emil, “that’s all right. But first of all—probably now—what
do you think?—Mother could come to Berlin too....”
Seventeenth Chapter
Frau Tischbein Is All Excited
The next morning Frau Wirth rang the door bell of Frau Tischbein’s
home in Neustadt.
“Morning, Frau Tischbein,” she said. “How are you?”
“Good-morning, Frau Wirth. I’m so worried. My boy hasn’t sent me a
word. Every time the bell rings I think it is the postman. Shall I do
your hair?”
“No, I only came over to bring you some news.”
“Please....”
“Greetings from Emil and—”
“For heaven’s sake, what happened to him? Where is he? What do you
know?” cried Frau Tischbein. She was frightfully excited and held up
both her hands in anxiety.
“But he’s all right, my dear, very much all right. He has caught a
thief. Think of that! And the police have presented him with a
reward of a thousand marks. What do you say to that? Hm? And now you
must take the noon train for Berlin.”
“But how do you know all that?”
“Your sister Frau Heimbold just called me up from Berlin in the store.
Emil said a few words too. And you must go right up there. As long as
you have so much money that is the thing to do.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” murmured Frau Tischbein distractedly. “Thousand
marks? Because he caught a thief? How did he ever get that idea? He
makes nothing but blunders!”
“But this one rewarded him. A thousand marks is a lot of money!”
“Oh, go on with your thousand marks!”
“Oh, well, it might be worse. So you are going?”
“Naturally, I won’t have a minute’s peace until I’ve seen that boy.”
“Good luck to you, then, and a pleasant journey!”
“Thank you, Frau Wirth,” said the hairdresser, shaking her head, as she
closed the door.
But when that afternoon she was seated in the train for Berlin she had
another and a greater surprise. Opposite her a man was reading the
paper.
Frau Tischbein’s gaze flickered restlessly from one corner to the
other. She counted the telegraph posts that marched past the
window and would have liked to run behind the train to help push it.
Time dragged so.
While she was shifting around, turning her head this way and that, she
happened to glance at the paper across from her.
“Good heavens!” she cried, and snatched the paper from the man who was
reading it. He thought the woman had suddenly gone mad, and was almost
frightened.
“There, there!” she stammered. “That—that is my boy!” And she pointed
with her finger at a photograph on the front page of the paper.
“You don’t mean it?” said the man cheerfully. “You are the mother
of Emil Tischbein? That’s a great youngster. Hats off to you, Frau
Tischbein!”
“Yes, yes,” said the hairdresser. “Just keep your hat on, sir!” And
then she began to read the article. Over it in giant letters was the
caption:
A SMALL BOY AS DETECTIVE
HUNDREDS OF BERLIN CHILDREN CHASE A CRIMINAL
And following that came a fully detailed story of Emil’s experiences
from the Neustadt railway station to police headquarters in Berlin.
Frau Tischbein was pale with excitement. And the paper rustled as if
the wind were blowing, yet the windows were all shut tight The
man hardly could wait for her to finish the article. But it was very
long—it filled almost the whole front page. And in the midst of it was
Emil’s picture.
Finally she laid the paper aside, looked over at the man, and said,
“Such performances, the minute he’s left to himself! And I warned him
so carefully to look after that hundred and forty marks. How could he
have been so careless? As if he didn’t know that we had no money to be
stolen.”
“Probably he was tired out. Perhaps, even, the thief hypnotized him.
That is supposed to happen,” the man suggested. “But don’t you think it
wonderful the way the youngsters carried on the affair? That was pure
genius. It was simply remarkable—simply remarkable!”
“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Frau Tischbein, some, what mollified.
“He is a clever boy, my son. Always the best in his class, and always
industrious. But imagine if anything had happened to him! My hair is
standing on end, even though it’s all over. No, I never can let him
travel alone again. I’d die of worry.”
“Does he look like his picture?” asked the man.
Frau Tischbein examined the picture again and said, “Yes, it’s a good
picture. Do you think he’s nice-looking?”
“Indeed, yes!” cried the man. “Such an upstanding boy, you can
expect great things from him later on.”
“He should have held himself up a little straighter,” fretted his
mother. “His coat is full of wrinkles. He is always supposed to
unbutton it before he sits down. But he never listens!”
“Well, if he has no bigger faults than that ...” laughed the man.
“No, he hasn’t any faults, really, my Emil,” said his mother, as she
blew her nose in an excess of emotion.
Then the man got off. She must keep his paper, and she read Emil’s
experiences again and again to Friedrich Strasse in Berlin. Eleven
times altogether.
When they arrived in Berlin, there was Emil on the platform. In honor
of his mother he had put on his best suit, and as he threw his arms
around her neck he asked, “Now, what do you say to me?”
“Don’t be so conceited, you monkey!”
“Well, Frau Tischbein,” he said as he hooked himself on to her arm, “I
certainly am tremendously glad you came.”
“I see your suit hasn’t been improved by your thief chasing,” observed
his mother, but she didn’t sound very cross.
“If you want me to, I can get a new suit.”
“From whom, then?”
“Oh, a clothing store wants to give me and the Professor and
Gustav new suits. And then they’ll announce in the paper that we
detectives buy our clothes only from them. That is advertising, you
understand!”
“Yes, I understand!”
“But we are probably going to refuse,” Emil continued taking big steps,
“although we can each get a new football, instead. You know, we think
the fuss they are making over us is good and silly. The grown-ups can
do that sort of thing, as far as we are concerned. They are funny and
can’t help it. But children ought to cut it out.”
“Bravo!” said his mother.
“Uncle Heimbold locked up the money. A thousand marks! Isn’t that
great? First of all, we’ll buy you an electric hair-drying machine. And
then a winter coat lined with fur. And for me? I must think it over.
Perhaps a new football, after all. Or maybe a camera. I’ll see.”
“I thought we’d better save the money and put it in the bank. Later on
you can tell better what to do with it.”
“No, you get the drying machine and the warm coat. What’s left over we
can put away, if you want to.”
“We’ll talk it over again,” said his mother, and squeezed his arm.
“Do you know that my picture’s been in all the papers? And long
stories about me?”
“I read one of them in the train. At first I was worried about you. Are
you sure nothing happened to you?”
“Not a thing. It was wonderful. I’ll tell you all about it. But first
you must meet my friends.”
“Where are they, then?”
“In Schumann Street. At Aunt Martha’s. She made applecake yesterday.
And then we invited the whole crowd. They’re up at the house now,
making a racket.”
Sure enough, there were great goings on at the Heimbolds’. They were
all there: Gustav, the Professor, Krummbiegel, the Mittenzwey brothers,
Gerold, Friedrich the First, Traugott, the little Dienstag, and all the
others. There were hardly enough chairs to go around.
Pony Hütchen ran from one to the next, pouring out hot chocolate from
a huge pot. And Aunt Martha’s applecake was a poem. Grandmother sat on
the sofa, laughing and seeming ten years younger.
[Illustration: Pony Hütchen ran from one to the other pouring
chocolate.]
When Emil came in with his mother there was a great welcome. Every boy
shook hands with her. And she thanked them all for helping her Emil so
much.
“And now,” interrupted Emil, “the new suits and the footballs, we
won’t take them. We won’t lend ourselves to any advertising scheme. Are
we agreed?”
“Agreed,” shouted Gustav, and honked his horn so that Aunt Martha’s
flowerpots rattled.
Then Grandmother rapped with her spoon on her gold cup, stood up, and
announced, “Now, you all listen to me, you young scouts. I’m going to
make a speech. But don’t begin to imagine things. I am not going to
praise you. The others have just about made you silly. I’m not going to
do that too. I’m not going to do that too.”
The boys had all become very still and did not even dare to keep on
chewing.
“Chasing after a thief,” went on the grandmother, “and surrounding him
with a hundred children—no, that isn’t a great performance. No offense
meant, my friends. But there is one among you who would have liked
to tiptoe after Herr Grundeis. He would have loved to spy around as
the green bell boy in the hotel. But he stayed at home because he had
agreed to—because he had agreed to.”
Everybody looked at little Dienstag. He was blushing beet red and was
very much embarrassed.
“Quite right. I mean little Dienstag. Quite right,” said the
grandmother. “He sat there for two days at the telephone. He knew where
his duty lay. And he did it, even though he didn’t like it. That
was very fine, you understand? That was very fine. You can all take an
example from him. And now we’ll stand up and cheer: ‘Hurrah for little
Dienstag!’”
The boys all jumped up. Pony Hütchen held her hands like a trumpet
before her mouth. Aunt Martha and Emil’s mother came in from the
kitchen. And they all shouted, “Three cheers for little Dienstag!”
Then they all sat down again. And little Dienstag took a deep breath
and gulped. “Thank you very much. But that’s too much. You would have
done it too. Any boy does what he has to. Enough! That’s all.”
Pony Hütchen held up the big chocolate pot and cried, “Who wants
anything more to drink, you fellows? Now we’ll drink to Emil!”
Eighteenth Chapter
Can Anything Be Learned from It All?
Late in the afternoon the boys departed. And Emil had to promise
solemnly to go to the Professor’s with Pony Hütchen the very next
afternoon. Then Uncle Heimbold came in, and they had supper. After
which he gave the thousand marks to his sister-in-law, Frau Tischbein,
and advised her to put the money in the bank.
“That was just my intention,” said the hairdresser.
“No,” objected Emil, “that wouldn’t be any fun for me. Mother must buy
an electric drying machine and a new coat that’s lined with fur. I
don’t know what you’re thinking about. That money belongs to me. Can I
do what I want with it or not?”
“That you certainly cannot,” declared Uncle Heimbold. “You are only a
child. And the decision as to what is to be done with the money rests
with your mother.”
Emil got up from the table and went over to the window.
“Good gracious, Heimbold, you are a blockhead!” said Pony Hütchen
to her father. “Can’t you see that Emil was glad that he could give
something to his mother? You grown-ups are dumb.”
“Of course, she’ll get the drying machine and the coat,” soothed the
grandmother. “But what’s left over can be put in the bank, can’t it, my
boy?”
“Of course,” agreed Emil. “Do you say so too, Mummy?”
“If you want it that way, you young millionaire.”
“We’ll go shopping early to-morrow,” cried Emil. “Pony, you can come
with us.”
“Did you think, perhaps, that I’d be catching flies in the meantime?”
laughed Pony. “But you must buy something for yourself, too. Of course,
Aunt Tischbein must get her drying machine, but you must buy yourself
a bicycle, so that you won’t have to ride your cousin’s bicycle to
pieces.”
“Emil,” inquired his mother anxiously, “have you broken your cousin’s
wheel?”
“Of course not, Mother, I only raised the handlebars a little bit
higher. She always goes around bent way over like a monkey so she’ll
look like a racer.”
“Monkey yourself!” cried Pony. “If you change my wheel again
everything’s off between us, you understand?”
“If you weren’t a girl and thin as a stick besides I’d teach you a
few things, my child. Anyway, I won’t bother myself about it to-day,
but what I buy with the money or what I don’t buy is none of your
business.” And Emil stuffed both fists in his pockets.
“Don’t quarrel, don’t strike, scratch each other’s eyes out instead,”
called the grandmother soothingly, and the subject was dropped.
Later Uncle Heimbold took the dog out for an airing. That is—Heimbolds
had no dog, but Pony always said that when her father went out to get
his evening glass of beer.
The grandmother and the two women and Pony Hütchen and Emil sat in
the living room and talked over the past few days, which had been so
exciting.
“Well, perhaps the affair has its good points, too,” said Aunt Martha.
“Sure it has,” agreed Emil. “One lesson I’ve learned from it—Never
trust anybody.”
And his mother added, “I have learned that you should never let
children travel alone.”
“Nonsense,” muttered the grandmother, “all wrong, all wrong.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense! Nonsense!” sang Pony as she rode a chair
around the room.
“You think, then, that we can’t learn anything from this experience?”
inquired Aunt Martha.
“Certainly,” answered the grandmother.
“What, then?” they all asked in one breath.
“Never send cash, always send a money order,” growled the grandmother,
and chuckled like a music box.
“Hurrah!” cried Pony Hütchen, and she rode her chair into the bedroom.
THE END
Footnotes
[1] Tischbein means Table leg.
[2] “Alex” is what they call police headquarters.
Transcriber’s Notes
1. Italicised words are indicated by _underscores_.
2. Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of the
book.
3. Illustrations are indicated by “[Illustration: caption-text]” and
have been positioned at a relevant location in the text. In the
case of no caption, a description is given wrapped in ().
4. Misspelled words have been corrected (see below). Archaic,
inconsistent and alternative spellings have been left unchanged.
Hyphenation has not been standardised.
5. “* * * * *” indicates a “thought break” represented in the printed
book as a larger gap between paragraphs.
6. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the
Levenshtein Distance.
Corrections:
Page Source Correction Edit distance
v Spy Spy Slips into the Hotel 21
vii in on 1
vii reporter reporters 1
88 children? children?” 1
123 substitues substitutes 1