I ENCOUNTER AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE WHO LEADS ME TO A DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE
He stood in the centre of the room, facing the door, his legs, straddled
apart, planted firmly on the ground, one hand behind his back, the
other, withered and useless like the rest of the arm, thrust into the
side pocket of his tunic. He wore a perfectly plain undress uniform of
field-grey, and the unusual simplicity of his dress, coupled with the
fact that he was bare-headed, rendered him so unlike his conventional
portraits in the full panoply of war that I doubt if I should have
recognized him--paradoxical as it may seem--but for the havoc depicted
in every lineament of those once so familiar features.
Only one man in the world to-day could look like that. Only one man in
the world to-day could show, by the ravage in his face, the appalling
weight of responsibility slowly crushing one of the most vigorous and
resilient personalities in Europe. His figure, erstwhile erect and
well-knit, seemed to have shrunk, and his withered arm, unnaturally
looped away into his pocket, assumed a prominence that lent something
sinister to that forbidding grey and harassed face.
His head was sunk forward on his breast. His face, always intensely
sallow, almost Italian in its olive tint, was livid. All its alertness
was gone; the features seemed to have collapsed, and the flesh hung
flabbily, bulging in deep pouches under the eyes and in loose folds at
the corners of the mouth. His head was grizzled an iron-grey but the
hair at the temples was white as driven snow. Only his eyes were
unchanged. They were the same grey, steely eyes, restless, shifting,
unreliable, mirrors of the man's impulsive, wayward and fickle mind.
He lowered at me. His brow was furrowed and his eyes flashed malice. In
the brief instant in which I gazed at him I thought of a phrase a friend
had used after seeing the Kaiser in one of his angry moods--"His icy,
black look."
I was so taken aback at finding myself in the Emperor's presence that I
forgot my part and remained staring in stupefaction at the apparition.
The other was seemingly too busy with his thoughts to notice my
forgetfulness, for he spoke at once, imperiously, in the harsh staccato
of a command.
"What is this I hear?" he said. "Why has not Grundt come? What are you
doing here?"
By this time I had elaborated the fable I had begun to tell in the
corridor without. I had it ready now: it was thin, but it must suffice.
"If your Majesty will allow me, I will explain," I said. The Emperor was
rocking himself to and fro, in nervous irritability, on his feet. His
eyes were never steady for an instant: now they searched my face, now
they fell to the floor, now they scanned the ceiling.
"Dr. Grundt and I succeeded in our quest, dangerous though it was. As
your Majesty is aware, the ... the ... the object had been divided...."
"Yes, yes, I know! Go on!" the other said, pausing for a moment in his
rocking.
"I was to have left England first with my portion. I could not get away.
Everyone is searched for letters and papers at Tilbury. I devised a
scheme and we tested it, but it failed."
"How? It failed?" the other cried.
"With no detriment to the success of our mission, Your Majesty."
"Explain! What was your stratagem?"
"I cut a piece of the lining from a handbag and in this I wrapped a
perfectly harmless letter addressed to an English shipping agent in
Rotterdam. I then pasted the fragment of the lining back in its place in
the bottom of the bag. Grundt gave the bag to one of our number as an
experiment to see if it would elude the vigilance of the English
police."
A light of interest was growing in the Emperor's manner, banishing his
ill-temper. Anything novel always appealed to him.
"Well?" he said.
"The ruse was detected, the letter was found and our man was fined
twenty pounds at the police court. It was then that Dr. Grundt decided
to send me...."
"You've got it with you?" the other exclaimed eagerly.
"No, Your Majesty," I said. "I had no means of bringing it away. Dr.
Grundt, on the other hand ..." And I doubled up my leg and touched my
foot.
The Emperor stared at me and the furrow reappeared between his eyes.
Then a smile broke out on his face, a warm, attractive smile, like
sunshine after rain, and he burst into a regular guffaw. I knew His
Majesty's weakness for jokes at the expense of the physical deformities
of others, but I had scarcely dared to hope that my subtle reference to
Grundt's clubfoot as a hiding-place for compromising papers would have
had such a success. For the Kaiser fairly revelled in the idea and
laughed loud and long, his sides fairly shaking.
"Ach, der Stelze! Excellent! Excellent!" he cried. "Plessen, come and
hear how we've diddled the Englander again!"
We were in a long room, lofty, with a great window at the far end, where
the room seemed to run to the right and left in the shape of a T. From
the big writing-desk with its litter of photographs in heavy silver
frames, the little bronze busts of the Empress, the water-colour
sea-scapes and other little touches, I judged this to be the Emperor's
study.
At the monarch's call, a white-haired officer emerged from the further
end of the room, that part which was hidden from my view.
The Kaiser put his hand on his shoulder.
"A great joke, Plessen!" he said, chuckling. Then, to me:
"Tell it again!"
I had warmed to my work now. I gave as drily humorous an account as I
could of Dr. Grundt, fat and massive and podgy, hobbling on board the
steamer at Tilbury, under the noses of the British police, with the
document stowed away in his boot.
The Kaiser punctuated my story with gusty guffaws, and emphasized the
fun of the _dénouement_ by poking the General in the ribs.
Plessen laughed very heartily, as indeed he was expected to. Then he
said suavely:
"But has the stratagem succeeded, Your Majesty?"
The monarch knit his brow and looked at me.
"Well, young man, did it work?"
"... Because," Plessen went on, "if so, Grundt must be in Holland. In
that case, why is he not here?"
My heart sank within me. Above all things, I knew I must keep my
countenance. The least sign of embarrassment and I was lost. Yet I felt
the blood fleeing from my face and I was glad I stood in the shadow.
A knock came to the door. The elderly chamberlain who had met me outside
appeared.
"Your Majesty will excuse me ... General Baron von Fischer is there to
report...."
"Presently, presently," was the answer in an irritable tone. "I am
engaged just now...."
The old courtier paused irresolutely for a moment.
"Well, what is it; what is it?"
"Despatches from General Head-quarters, Your Majesty! The General asked
me to say the matter was urgent!"
The Kaiser wakened in an instant.
"Bring him in!" Then, to Plessen, he added in a voice from which all
mirth had vanished, in accents of gloom:
"At this hour, Plessen? If things have again gone wrong on the Somme!"
An officer came in quickly, rigid with a frozen face, helmet on head,
portfolio under his arm. The Kaiser walked the length of the room to his
desk and sat down. Plessen and the other followed him. I remained where
I was. They seemed to have forgotten all about me.
A murmur rose from the desk. The officer was delivering his report. Then
the Kaiser seemed to question him, for I heard his hard, metallic
voice:
"Contalmaison ... Trones Wood ... heavy losses ... forced
back ... terrific artillery fire ..." were words that reached me.
The Kaiser's voice rose on a high note of irritability. Suddenly he
dashed the papers on the desk from him and exclaimed:
"It is outrageous! I'll break him! Not another man shall he have if I
must go myself and teach his men their duty!"
Plessen hurriedly left the desk and came to me. His old face was white
and his hands were shaking.
"Get out of here!" he said to me in a fierce undertone. "Wait outside
and I will see you later!" Still, from the desk, resounded that harsh,
strident voice, running on in an ascending scale, pouring forth a
foaming torrent of menace.
I had often heard of the sudden paroxysms of fury from which the Kaiser
was said to suffer of recent years, but never in my wildest daydreams
did I ever imagine I should assist at one.
Gladly enough did I exchange the highly charged electrical atmosphere of
the Imperial study for the repose of the quiet corridor. Its perfect
tranquillity was as balm to my quivering nerves. Of the man in green
nothing was to be seen. Only the trooper continued his silent vigil.
Again I acted on impulse. I was wearing my grass-green raincoat, my hat
I carried in my hand. I might therefore easily pass for one just leaving
the Castle. Without hesitation, I turned to the left, the way I had
come, and plunged once more into the labyrinth of galleries and
corridors and landings by which the man in green had led me. I very soon
lost myself, so I decided to descend the next staircase I should come
to. I followed this plan and went down a broad flight of stairs, at the
foot of which I found a night porter, clad in a vast overcoat bedizened
with eagles and seated on a stool, reading a newspaper.
He stopped me and asked me my business. I told him I was coming from the
Emperor's private apartments, whereupon he demanded my pass. I showed
him my badge which entirely satisfied him, though he muttered something
about "new faces" and not having seen me before. I asked him for the way
out. He said that at the end of the gallery I should come to the west
entrance. I felt I had had a narrow squeak of running into my mentor
outside. I told the man I wanted the other entrance ... I had my car
there.
"You mean the south entrance?" he asked, and proceeded to give me
directions which brought me, without further difficulty, out upon the
open space in front of the great equestrian statue of the Emperor
William I.
It was a clear, starry night and I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw the
Schloss-Platz glittering in the cold light of the arc lamps. So pressing
had been the danger threatening me that the atmosphere of the Castle
seemed stifling in comparison with the keen night air. A new confidence
filled my veins as I strode along, though the perils to which I was
advancing were not a whit less than those I had just escaped. For I had
burnt my boats. My disappearance from the Castle must surely arouse
suspicion and it was only a matter of hours for the hue and cry to be
raised after me. At best it might be delayed until Clubfoot presented
himself at the Castle.
I could not remain in Berlin, that was clear. My American passport was
not in order, and if I were to fall back upon my silver badge, I should
instantly come into contact with the police with all kinds of unwelcome
consequences. No, I must get out of Berlin at all costs. Well away from
the capital, I might possibly utilize my silver badge or by its help
procure identity papers that would give me a status of some kind.
But Francis? Baffled as I was by that obscure jingle of German,
something seemed to tell me that it was a message from my brother. It
was dated from Berlin, and I felt that the solution of the riddle, if
riddle it were, must be found here.
I had reached Unter den Linden. I entered a café and ordered a glass of
beer. The place was a blaze of light and dense with a blue cloud of
tobacco smoke. A noisy band was crashing out popular tunes and there was
a loud buzz of conversation rising from every table. It was all very
cheerful and the noise and the bustle did me good after the strain of
the night.
I drew from my pocket the slip of paper I had had from Dicky and fell to
scanning it again. I had not been twelve hours in Germany, but already I
was conscious that, for anyone acting a part, let anything go wrong with
his identity papers and he could never leave the country. If he were
lucky, he might lie doggo; but there was no other course.
Supposing, then, that this had happened to Francis (as, indeed, Red Tabs
had hinted to me was the case) what course would he adopt? He would try
and smuggle out a message announcing his plight. Yes, I think that is
what I myself would do in similar circumstances.
Well, I would accept this as a message from Francis. Now to study it
once more.
_O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz!
Wie leer sind deine Blätter.
Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.
Wo zweie sich zanken
Erfreut sich der Dritte._
The message fell into three parts, each consisting of a phrase. The
first phrase might certainly be a warning that Francis had failed in
his mission.
_"O Okewood! how empty are thy leaves!"_
What, then, of the other two phrases?
They were short and simple. Whatever message they conveyed, it could not
be a lengthy one. Nor was it likely that they contained a report of
Francis' mission to Germany, whatever it had been. Indeed, it was not
conceivable that my brother would send any such report to a Dutchman
like van Urutius, a friendly enough fellow, yet a mere acquaintance and
an alien at that.
The message carried in those two phrases must be, I felt sure, a
personal one, relating to my brother's welfare. What would he desire to
say? That he was arrested, that he was going to be shot? Possibly, but
more probably his idea in sending out word was to explain his silence
and also to obtain assistance.
My eye recurred continually to the final phrase: "When _two_ people fall
out, the _third_ party rejoices."
Might not these numerals refer to the number of a street? Might not in
these two phrases be hidden an address at which one might find Francis,
or at the worst, hear news of him?
I sent for the Berlin Directory. I turned up the streets section and
eagerly ran my eye down the columns of the "A's." I did not find what I
was looking for, and that was an "Achilles-Strasse," either with two
"l's" or with one.
Then I tried "Eichenholz." There was an "Eichenbaum-Allee" in the Berlin
suburb called West-End, but that was all. I tried for a "Blätter" or a
"Blatt-Strasse" with an equally negative result.
It was discouraging work, but I went back to the paper again. The only
other word likely to serve as a street remaining in the puzzle was
"Zelt."
"Wie Achiles in dem Zelte."
Wearily I opened the directory at the "Z's."
There, staring me in the face, I found the street called "In den
Zelten."
I had struck the trail at last.
In den Zelten, I discovered, on referring to the directory again,
derived its name "In the Tents," from the fact that in earlier days a
number of open-air beer-gardens and booths had occupied the site which
faces the northern side of the Tiergarten. It was not a long street. The
directory showed but fifty-six houses, several of which, I noticed, were
still beer-gardens. It appeared to be a fashionable thoroughfare, for
most of the occupants were titled people. No. 3, I was interested to
see, was still noted as the Berlin office of _The Times_.
The last phrase in the message decidedly gave the number. _Two_ must
refer to the number of the house: _third_ to the number of the floor,
since practically all dwelling-houses in Berlin are divided off into
flats.
As for the "Achiles," I gave it up.
I looked at my watch. It was twenty past eleven: too late to begin my
search that night. Then I suddenly realized how utterly exhausted I was.
I had been two nights out of bed without sleep, for I had sat up on deck
crossing over to Holland, and the succession of adventures that had
befallen me since I left London had driven all thought of weariness from
my mind. But now came the reaction and I felt myself yearning for a hot
bath and for a nice comfortable bed. To go to an hotel at that hour of
night, without luggage and with an American passport not in order, would
be to court disaster. It looked as though I should have to hang about
the cafés and night restaurants until morning, investigate the clue of
the street called In den Zelten, and then get away from Berlin as fast
as ever I could.
But my head was nodding with drowsiness. I must pull myself together. I
decided I would have some black coffee, and I raised my eyes to find the
waiter. They fell upon the pale face and elegant figure of the one-armed
officer I had met at the Casino at Goch ... the young lieutenant they
had called Schmalz.
He had just entered the café and was standing at the door, looking about
him. I felt a sudden pang of uneasiness at the sight of him, for I
remembered his cross-examination of me at Goch. But I could not escape
without paying my bill; besides, he blocked the way.
He settled my doubts and fears by walking straight over to my table.
"Good evening, Herr Doktor," he said in German, with his pleasant smile.
"This indeed is an unexpected pleasure! So you are seeing how we poor
Germans are amusing ourselves in war-time. You must admit that we do not
take our pleasures sadly. You permit me?"
Without waiting for my reply, he sat down at my table and ordered a
glass of beer.
"I wish you had appeared sooner," I exclaimed in as friendly a tone as I
could muster, "for I am just going. I have had a long and tiring journey
and am anxious to go to an hotel."
Directly I had spoken I realized my blunder.
"You have not got an hotel yet?" said Schmalz. "Why, how curious! Nor
have I!S As you are a stranger in Berlin, you must allow me to appoint
myself your guide. Let us go to an hotel together, shall we?"
I wanted to demur, difficult as it was to find any acceptable excuse,
but his manner was so friendly, his offer seemed so sincere, that I felt
my resolution wavering. He had a winning personality, this frank,
handsome boy. And I was so dog-tired!
He perceived my reluctance but also my indecision.
"We'll go to any hotel you like," he said brightly. "But you Americans
are spoilt in the matter of luxurious hotels, I know. Still, I tell you
we have not much to learn in that line in Berlin. Suppose we go to the
Esplanade. It's a fine hotel ... the Hamburg American line run it, you
know. I am very well known there, quite the _Hauskind_ ... my uncle was
a captain of one of their liners. They will make us very comfortable:
they always give me a little suite, bedroom, sitting-room and bath, very
reasonably: I'll make them do the same for you."
If I had been less weary--I have often thought since--I would have got
up and fled from the café rather than have countenanced any such mad
proposal. But I was drunk with sleep heaviness and I snatched at this
chance of getting a good night's rest, for I felt that, under the aegis
of this young officer, I could count on any passport difficulties at the
hotel being postponed until morning. By that time, I meant to be out of
the hotel and away on my investigations.
So I accepted Schmalz's suggestion.
"By the way," I said, "I have no luggage. My bag got mislaid somehow at
the station and I don't really feel up to going after it to-night."
"I will fix you up," the other replied promptly, "and with pyjamas in
the American fashion. By the by," he added, lowering his voice, "I
thought it better to speak German. English is not heard gladly in
Berlin just now."
"I quite understand," I said. Then, to change the subject, which I did
not like particularly, I added:
"Surely, you have been very quick in coming down from the frontier. Did
you come by train?"
"Oh, no!" he answered. "I found that the car in which you drove to the
station ... it belonged to the gentleman who came to meet you, you
know ... was being sent back to Berlin by road, so I got the driver to
give me a lift."
He said this quite airily, with his usual tone of candour. But for a
moment I regretted my decision to go to the Esplanade with him. What if
he knew more than he seemed to know?
I dismissed the suspicion from my mind.
"Bah!" I said to myself, "you are getting jumpy. Besides, it is too late
to turn back now!"
We had a friendly wrangle as to who should pay for the drinks, and it
ended in my paying. Then, after a long wait, we managed to get a cab, an
antique-looking "growler" driven by an octogenarian in a coat of many
capes, and drove to the Esplanade.
It was a regular palace of a place, with a splendid vestibule with walls
and pavement of different-hued marbles, with palm trees over-shadowing
a little fountain tinkling in a jade basin, with servants in gaudy
liveries. The reception clerk overwhelmed me with the cordiality of his
welcome to my companion and "the American gentleman," and after a
certain amount of coquettish protestations about the difficulty of
providing accommodation, allotted us a double suite on the entresol,
consisting of two bedrooms with a common sitting-room and bathroom.
In his immaculate evening dress, he was a Beau Brummell among hotel
clerks, that man. The luggage of the American gentleman should be
fetched in the morning. The gentleman's papers? There was no hurry: the
Herr Leutnant would explain to his friend the forms that had to be
filled in: they could be given to the waiter in the morning. Would the
gentlemen take anything before retiring? A whisky-soda--ah! whisky was
getting scarce. No? Nothing? He had the honour to wish the gentlemen
pleasant repose.
We went to the lift in procession, Beau Brummell in front, then a
waiter, then ourselves and the gold-braided hall porter bringing up the
rear. One or two people were sitting in the lounge, attended by a
platoon of waiters. The whole place gave an impression of wealth and
luxury altogether out of keeping with British ideas of the stringency of
life in Germany under the British blockade. I could not help reflecting
to myself mournfully that Germany did not seem to feel the pinch very
much.
At the lift the procession bowed itself away and we went up in charge of
the liftman, a gorgeous individual who looked like one of the Pope's
Swiss Guards. We reached the centresol in an instant. The Lieutenant led
the way along the dimly lighted corridor.
"Here is the sitting-room," he said, opening a door. "This is my room,
this the bathroom, and this," he flung open the fourth door, "is your
room!"
He stood aside to let me pass. The lights in the room were full on. In
an arm-chair a big man in an overcoat was sitting.
He had a heavy square face and a clubfoot.