The ride to Hamburg was short and pleasant. There the whole party
disembarked; Elsa and the Baroness to remain, and Ferreira and Topham
to take another train for Berlin.
In the waiting-room Topham made his farewells. Ferreira had gone to see
after the baggage and the Baroness had fallen a little behind, so that
the two were practically alone. Briefly, almost coldly, for fear his
passion might break away in spite of himself, Topham pressed the girl’s
hand and bade her adieu.
“Good-by, Senorita,” he said, slowly. “I have to thank you for a very
delightful voyage. Is there no chance at all that I may see you in
Berlin. I shall be there till day after tomorrow.”
The girl shook her head. If she were piqued by Topham’s self-restraint
she did not show it. “I must stay in Hamburg for the present,” she
answered, deliberately. “I shall not go to Berlin till much later. So
this is really good-by, senor.”
“Good-by.” Topham clasped her extended hand; then turned away, afraid
to trust himself further.
But the girl called him back. “Senor!” she exclaimed softly. “Senor!”
“Yes!”
“Listen! Be careful. Be very careful. Things--happen--to strangers
sometimes. Be very careful, senor, till you are safe in Berlin.”
Topham stared. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“There is nothing to understand--except to be--careful. This country
is not always altogether safe for strangers. Be careful--for my sake,
senor.”
The girl’s voice broke and Topham started forward, flinging resolutions
to the wind.
“Elsa,” he cried. “I--”
But the voice of Ferreira broke in. “Cab’s waiting, Elsa,” he called.
“Come along! Hurry! Or you’ll make Senor Topham and me miss our train.”
Recalled to himself by the interruption, Topham raised the girl’s hand
to his lips, then dropped it and saw her led away.
Soon Ferreira was back. “Quick, Senor Topham!” he called. “The train’s
waiting.”
Many people apparently were going to Berlin, but few of them appeared
to hold first-class tickets, and the two young men speedily found an
empty carriage, in which they ensconced themselves.
Ferreira promptly leaned out of the window. “Here! guard,” he said,
holding out his hand. “I don’t want to be bothered with other people!
You understand!” A piece of silver changed hands and the Brazilian
settled back.
Then he turned and nodded to Topham.
“We’ll try to keep this compartment to ourselves, senor,” he said. “I
detest travelling shut in with three or four others. I suppose you
agree with me.”
Topham answered that he did.
An instant later the guards began to run along the platform slamming
the doors. Just before they reached the carriage that sheltered Topham,
two Germans came running up. One of them grabbed the handle of the door
and jerked it open, and both precipitated themselves into the carriage,
despite the Brazilian’s strenuous protests.
“We have as good right here as you, nicht wahr?” asserted the foremost,
seating himself without any ceremony. “This carriage is not reserved?
What? It has no placard out? No!”
Ferreira fumed, pouring out so swift a torrent of guttural German that
Topham, good German scholar as he was, could not understand one word in
five. The intruders, however, clearly understood very well. Scornfully
indifferent at first, they soon roused to the assault and apparently
gave back as good as he sent.
In the middle of the dispute the train started, but neither Ferreira
nor his adversary seemed to note that the case was closed. Hotter and
hotter waxed the wordy war. Soon the two men were glaring at each
other, shaking their fists and seeming on the point of flying at each
other’s throats.
Topham watched the contest with twinkling eyes. If he had been in Italy
or France, where men are supposed to be more excitable, the scene would
not have seemed very strange to him. But that notoriously phlegmatic
Germans should work themselves into a passion over such a trifle seemed
to him amazing. He scarcely believed, however, that the quarrel would
end in actual violence; and so, though ready to aid Ferreira (Elsa’s
brother) if need arose, he sat still and looked on, letting a ghost of
a smile flicker across his lips.
Instantly, with bewildering abruptness the other German leaned across
the carriage, shaking his fist in the American’s face, and shouting
something which Topham did not catch, but which he instinctively knew
was insulting.
The navy officer flushed angrily, and the next moment the other
launched a blow at his face.
Topham parried and struck back shrewdly. He landed, but before he could
follow up his advantage, the other German precipitated himself upon
him, and in an instant the carriage became a pandemonium of struggling,
kicking, fighting men.
Topham was big and strong, but he had been taken unawares, and found
himself pinned down in the seat in the grasp of men stronger than he.
Ferreira, though he struggled, did so ineffectively, and both intruders
were practically free to concentrate on the American. The bout ended
with Topham and Ferreira on the floor with the two Germans sitting on
top of them, panting.
The struggle had lasted for some time, and in the momentary hush
that followed its cessation the shriek of the locomotive was heard,
whistling for a stop.
None of the four moved as the train slowed down. Then the Germans stood
up, releasing the others. “We leave here, Herren,” said the leader.
“This is our address if you wish to carry matters further.” They both
bowed, flung down their cards, and stepped out through the door that
the guard opened for them.
Left alone, Ferreira and Topham arose slowly. Topham was humiliated
and intensely angry, but he saw the futility of engaging in a further
contest at that moment. In fact, he scarcely knew what to do. The
crisis had come with such bewildering suddenness, and had been so
surprising both in its inception and its results, that it had taken
away his breath, both actually and figuratively. That such a thing
should happen in a German railway carriage, of all places in the world,
was to him almost too amazing for belief.
Meanwhile Ferreira had snatched up the cards. “They shall die for
this,” he hissed. “Madre de Dios! But they shall die. I have friends
here. They will act for you too, Senor Topham! Come! Let us seek them!”
He made as if to leave the train.
But Topham shook his head. “Not for me,” he declared. “I don’t fight
duels, not when I’m on duty, anyhow. Besides, I see little cause. They
bested us fairly. Anyhow, it’s too late now.”
As a matter of fact, the train was moving again.
The Brazilian hesitated. Then suddenly he tore the cards to pieces and
flung them out of the window. “So be it, Senor!” he acceded.
Topham glanced down at his clothes and found them whole, though badly
rumpled. Suddenly he started, just as he had on the steamer the night
he left New York, and thrust his hands into his inner pocket; then
dropped it weakly to his side.
At his blank look Ferreira cried out: “You are hurt, senor!” he
exclaimed.
Slowly the color came back to Topham’s face. “No!” he said.
“Not--not--hurt! You--you don’t see an envelope--a big blue
envelope--lying around anywhere, do you?” Dazedly he peered under the
seats.
Ferreira aided him. “I hope it was not valuable, senor!” he ventured.
Slowly Topham shook his head. “Not intrinsically,” he answered.
“But--but it was--of great personal value to me. Those men must have
taken it. I suppose it is too late to find them?”
The Brazilian looked blank. “Dolt that I am!” he cried. “I destroyed
the cards!”
Topham nodded. “Probably they would be useless, anyhow,” he muttered.
“We will say no more about it, senor, if you will be so kind.”
The rest of the trip passed uneventfully. Topham was moody and said
little, and Ferreira did not disturb him.
When Berlin was reached Ferreira leaped lightly from the train. “You
will come to my hotel, and refresh yourself, senor; it is not so?” he
invited.
But Topham shook his head. “Thank you,” he replied. “I must go first to
the American Embassy. The secretary there is an old friend of mine. In
fact I came by Berlin particularly to see him. So you will excuse me,
senor.”
Ferreira bowed. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “El Senor Rutile! He is a friend of
yours? A fine fellow, Rutile! Boni! I shall do myself the honor to call
on you later. Auf wiedersehen, senor.”
With a nod and a bow he was gone.
Topham stared after him perplexedly. “I guess you were in it, my
friend,” he syllabled, slowly; “and I guess you think you’ve won. But
the game isn’t yours yet, not by a long shot.” He paused; then “God
bless her,” he muttered. “She tried to save me! God bless her!”