A POISON CHARGE
"Where's the fellow you called Rudolff?" he demanded truculently.
My first idea was to shove him out, but it struck me that an interview
between the two men might have interesting results, so I went back to
the sitting-room. "Your friend's still here," I said.
Rudolff wilted at the sight of his genial employer, and as they were
now two to one, both scoundrels, and capable of any violence, it was
best to take precautions. Thus while von Erstein was challenging the
other man to say he knew him, I crossed to a small table drawer and put
my revolver in my pocket, keeping my hand on it in case of necessity.
The instant Rudolff knew that I had tricked him out of the confession
he was nearly as mad as von Erstein. He couldn't well have been madder.
"A bit late, eh, beloved?" I jeered. "Had to wait for a taxi? They are
rather scarce just now."
"What has this man written?"
"Just a line or two about the weather and so on."
"Let me see it."
"He can tell you, of course."
"I have a right to see it."
"Naturally. You'll see it all right--some day. What he says about
atmospheric and other kinds of pressure is----"
Oaths from the two interrupted the sentence.
"Give it up," from Rudolff, and "I want to see it now," from von
Erstein, came almost in the same breath.
"It pains me to disappoint such a charming pair of friends, but----" I
shook my head. "Can't be done, beloved; out of the question."
"We'll see about that;" and they exchanged glances.
"Don't make asses of yourselves. One of you has a cracked pate already,
and the other's so podgy that half a punch would put him out of action;
so you wouldn't have a dog's chance at what I see you're thinking
about."
"What do you mean, Lassen? I'm only asking to see what this man has
written about me," said von Erstein, trying to fool me with an
appearance of calmness, while he took his handkerchief out of the
pocket of his overcoat--a suspiciously bulky handkerchief which he
handled very gingerly.
"You may as well lay that thing on the table, beloved. I'm too old for
that game."
He tried to laugh and suddenly grabbed the handkerchief with his left
hand to free the revolver it was concealing. He bungled over it, and
before he succeeded I had him covered. "I told you to put it on the
table. If you lift it so much as an inch, I'll put a bullet in your
head," I cried.
What a coward he was! He went as white as a sheet, tossed the weapon on
to the table, and put up his hands as a shield. "Don't, Lassen. Don't
do anything like that," he stammered.
I laughed, picked up his revolver, and tossed mine across to him.
"That's less dangerous for you, sweetheart; it's unloaded."
Still trembling, now with more mortification than fear, however, he
dropped into a chair and strafed me with fine Teutonic hate.
I turned to his companion. "Now, get out, you. Do you hear?" for he
hesitated, looking to his master for orders. "It'll be bad for that
head of yours if I have to chuck you out. I'll give you one minute to
clear." He was no stayer and slunk out in half the time; and I followed
and shut the door after him.
When I got back to the room von Erstein was on his feet also ready to
go. "Oh, don't hurry away, beloved; this is an excellent chance for a
pretty little love scene. Mix yourself a drink, have a cigar, and be
your own cheerful sprightly self."
The scowl which greeted this was a real gem.
"What a seraphic smile! No wonder that every one loves you so and
worships the ground you tread on."
"Stop it," he growled with an oath.
"Oh, you naughty darling! Did'ums," and I chucked him coyly under his
fat double chin. His spasm of rage at this almost overpowered his
cowardice, and he must have been within an ace of apoplexy. The blood
rushed in a crimson flood to his flabby face, he clenched his fists and
trembled like an aspen with the strain.
"I'm going," he mumbled thickly at last.
"Of course you are, darling; but presently." I stood with my back
against the door. "I can't spare you yet. Besides, you haven't thanked
me. Isn't my sweetheart grateful to his Popsy-wopsy?" I chided in a
sort of Mantalini manner.
"Oh, blazes! Let me go, will you?"
"But think what I've saved you from, beloved. Why, if it hadn't been
for me by this time you'd be a murderer or a thief, or both. Imagine
it! The torments your tender conscience would be suffering! A murderer!
My Albert!"
Another spasm of impotent rage followed, and this time, instead of
cursing he groaned aloud and dropped into a chair with his hands to his
head.
I locked the door then, putting the key in my pocket, took the
cartridges out of his revolver, tossed it into his lap, and mixed
myself a drink and lit a cigar. "Now we'll have our chat," I said,
dropping the banter.
He looked up and, seeing the way to the door was free, jumped from his
seat to escape; and began cursing again on finding it locked. "Are you
going to stop that rot?"
"Yes, if you behave yourself; except for an occasional endearment, lest
we forget how much we love one another."
"What have you got to say? Be quick about it, I want to go."
"Sit down and have a drink. It'll pull you together."
"Not here, thank you. I don't want to be poisoned."
"I didn't think of that. It's rather a good idea. I will poison you."
He must be punished for that insult. I went into my bedroom and came
back with a pinch of salt in a screw of paper which I opened out before
him. Then I poured out his drink, put the salt into it, stirred it
carefully till it had dissolved, pushed the glass across the table, and
placed a chair close to the spot. "Now sit down and drink that."
"I'll see you to the devil first," he cried, trying to bluster and
turning as white as a sheet.
I promptly took him by the collar of his coat and forced him into the
chair and ordered him to drain the glass. His panic was pitiful. He was
such a blithering ass that he never suspected I was only fooling; and
was convinced I meant to kill him. The sweat of abject terror stood in
beads on his forehead, he couldn't utter a word, and sat staring up at
me like a paralyzed idiot.
"Drink it!" I thundered in his own bullying tones which made him jump
and twitch convulsively. He made one feeble attempt to lift the glass,
and then with a moan dropped back in his chair in a faint.
I was afraid at first that he was really dead; but his pulse was
beating all right. It was probably just pretence; so I moved the glass
out of his reach and left him to come round when he pleased. It was
merely shamming, and when he thought I was far enough away, he made a
grab to upset the glass.
"I think you're the biggest fool I ever met, von Erstein, but you've
been punished enough for your little poison suggestion. Look here;" and
I swallowed the "poison" myself. "Not enough salt even to alter the
taste of it, man."
In a minute he was cursing quite as cheerfully as usual and looking
just as amiable. "Well, can I go now?" he asked.
"As soon as you've answered one question. Who is Anna Hilden?"
"I don't know any more than I told you before."
"I don't mean the right one, but the mock heroine of the Thiergarten
scene to-day."
"I don't know anything about her."
Taking out my card case in which I had put Rudolff's statement, I
unfolded the paper and laid it on the table. "Rudolff says here----"
He tried to snatch the paper, but I whipped it up in time, leaving only
the card case in his hand. "Rudolff says here that you sent him to me
so that he should point me out to her this afternoon. Now then, who is
she?"
"I don't know anything about her," he repeated doggedly.
"I'll help your memory. She admitted to me that it was a put-up job and
that the child was neither hers nor mine. That enough for you?"
But he stuck to his denial and nothing I could say moved him. The
poison farce had apparently convinced him that his life was safe and he
met all my threats with the same dogged answer.
I had to give it up in the end. "Very well, then, I shall have to get
the whole story out of her. The police will do it, if I can't; so that
it's only a matter of a day or two. Do you still refuse to own up?"
"I tell you I know nothing about it. Wash your own dirty linen for
yourself," he replied.
I unlocked the door and told him to go. His exit was very
characteristic. He stepped very gingerly toward where I stood by the
door, fearing I should strike him, paused when just a couple of yards
away, then darted out quickly, opened the front door, shook his fist at
me and snarled out a threat. "I'll make you pay a heavy price for all
this, curse you," he cried and bolted down the stairs as I made a step
after him.
Except that he had been thoroughly frightened and enraged to the point
of collapse, the interview had yielded little satisfaction. It was not
improbable, moreover, that it had been a blunder to warn him about Anna
Hilden. As for his threats, they were just laughable; but he might be
able to strengthen the woman's backbone and cause her to persist in the
story she had acted.
That the whole business was faked, there was no doubt at all; and if
she did persist, it would only be necessary to set inquiries about her
on foot. It might be as well to do that before seeing her again, as it
would be a big trump card to face her with some of her own life history.
There was something to go on in the shape of Rudolff's statement; but
it didn't amount to much. In all probability von Erstein would see to
it that the man was got out of the way; and the mere paper itself could
not carry the least weight with a soul.
Reflection suggested one exception, however. Von Gratzen might take a
different view of it, if I told him frankly the whole affair. He had
urged me to go to him in any trouble; and if he was not a fraud, he
could help me enormously.
He would certainly want to hear from me all about the inner meaning of
the scene his wife and daughter had witnessed, and it would be best to
see him as soon as possible. He hated von Erstein, moreover, and might
be glad to find something against him.
The next morning there was a note from him asking me to see him at his
office at eleven o'clock, as he had some important news for me. Not a
mere official summons this time; and this was rather a good sign.
It was to be hoped that the "important news" had to do with my leaving
Berlin. The delay was irksome. Things were happening which threatened
to make it more and more difficult for me to disappear without causing
more fuss than would be healthy for either Nessa or myself. It all
tended to force one's hand; and I began to think seriously of resorting
to the "third wheel" Nessa and I had discussed together.
Von Gratzen received me with all the usual cordiality, shook hands
warmly, and immediately referred to the Thiergarten affair, taking the
line which I had half expected.
"My wife and Nita told me all about it, and of course it settles one
point satisfactorily. It places beyond doubt that you are really Johann
Lassen. Nevertheless I could wish it had been established in a less
dramatic and embarrassing fashion for you."
"It was exceedingly unpleasant, sir."
"Tell me all about it."
I described it from my point of view; making much of my profound
astonishment and my inability to say whether the story was true or not.
"Have you any reason to doubt it? Did you remember anything which
enabled you, I mean?"
"Not a thing. So far as I know, I never saw the woman before in all my
life."
"But she was positive?"
"She embraced me and called me her 'long lost darling,' and so on."
"Women are hysterical creatures, we know, and apt to make any sort of
statement at such moments. Do you think she was really in earnest? Of
course it's important."
"Your people could judge that as well as I, sir."
"True. Which would you rather it was--true or false?"
"False, without a question."
"Despite the fact that it establishes your identity?"
"Certainly. Any man who feels as I do now must loathe to have such a
brutal thing as that dug up out of his past."
"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that." He smiled as if he was really
glad, but there was something else behind his questions that left me
guessing as usual.
If he accepted the woman's recognition as settling the matter of my
identification as Lassen, was it better to leave it there or risk
unsettling him again by telling him about the subsequent interview with
her? Rather a nice point to decide. But his next question cleared the
course and concealment kicked the beam.
"You'd like to have the matter investigated?"
"Certainly," I replied promptly. Very few official inquiries would give
him the truth, and it was thus much better to tell it myself. "I was
going to ask your advice about it. I know that part of her story is
false; she owned it; and I doubt all the rest;" and I described the
interview.
This appeared to both interest and amuse him, especially my instant
offer to marry Anna; and he expressed his appreciation in the equivocal
fashion. "It was clever, my boy; quite the best line. You must have had
considerable experience in bluffing people;" and there was a glint in
his keen eyes which might have meant anything. "You can act well too,
or you'd never have dragged that confession out of her. She must have
thought you were in earnest."
"I was, sir. If she can prove that I am the man she thinks, I will
marry her."
"Good. Very good indeed. _If_ she can prove it, of course. But you
wouldn't relish the job, eh?"
"That goes without saying."
"Well, we'll hope she can't. We shall soon know all about her. In the
meantime what are you going to do?"
"I can only wait and see."
He laughed and rubbed his hands. "Wait and see, eh? That's the English
Premier's phrase, isn't it? So you've picked that up, it seems."
His comment made me wish I'd used a different one. "There isn't
anything else to do, sir."
"Quite so. Wait and see. Exactly. And as an honourable man you'd prefer
to get the question settled before leaving Berlin?"
The shrewd old beggar was a positive expert in sticking one in a hole.
I didn't know what answer to make, so I just shrugged my shoulders and
smiled vacuously.
"It's rather a pity, too," he continued after a pause. "I've arranged
that matter of your leaving; in fact I intended you to go to-day. I
have all the necessary papers, even tickets for you and Miss
Caldicott;" and he took them out of his desk and laid them in front of
me, giving me one of those wily smiles of his.
I could have cursed the luck. The sight of them, the knowledge that
Nessa and I could have been out of the infernal country within a few
hours but for this rotten thing coming in the way, so exasperated me
that it was scarcely possible to conceal my bitter chagrin. I tried to
hide it from him by taking the papers and looking them over.
"Oh dear, I've forgotten something," he exclaimed, rising. "I'll be
back in a moment," and he went out of the room.
What a temptation that was! To have all I needed actually in my hands;
to be left alone with them and yet not to be able to use them! I'd have
given every shilling I had in the world to have stuffed them into my
pocket and walked off. Did he mean me to take them? Or was it intended
as a test? Did he guess what a temptation it was? Could I get away with
them? He stopped out of the room long enough, and as the minutes
passed, it was all I could do to resist it.
But I stuck it; put the papers down on his desk and tried not to look
at them. It was a touch of sheer purgatory. His first glance, when at
length he returned, was at them, and the way he looked at me made me
pretty certain that he could guess something of my feeling. It looked
uncommonly as if he were disappointed to find me still in the room and
the papers on his table.
"I'm sorry to have kept you, my boy, but it couldn't be helped," he
said as he sat down and put the temptation out of sight. "I told you in
my letter that I had something important to tell you. I have, and
unpleasant into the bargain. Was Count von Erstein with you last night?"
"Yes, about ten o'clock."
"Did you offer him some drink?"
"Yes, and a cigar, but he refused both."
"What was he doing there? Wait, I'll tell you first that he has made a
charge against you that you attempted to poison him."
I laughed. "Of course I didn't. It was a joke."
"It may not be altogether a laughing matter; he's a dangerous man to
joke with. Would you care to tell me about it all?"
"Of course. This will explain a good deal." I put my hand in my
waistcoat pocket for Rudolff's statement, and then for the first time
missed the card case which Rosa had given me. The loss was of no
consequence, however, as I had the fellow's confession. "Before I give
it you I ought to say that I promised the man who wrote this that if he
was prepared to swear to the truth of it, he should come to no harm."
"That'll be all right," he agreed with a nod.
"An attempt was made on my life last night by this fellow and two
others at von Erstein's instigation;" and I described the affair and
all that had occurred subsequently.
"Ah, more clever bluff, eh? Upon my word I shall be expecting you to
try it with me next," he said. Then he read over the confession
carefully and lapsed into thought. Long and apparently anxious thought
it was, too.
"I'll stand by you, my boy. I believe your story implicitly and I know
von Erstein. But it was a bad mistake. He has a lot of influence in
many directions. I hope you'll hear no more of it; but it was a bad
blunder." He paused and, in a different and lighter tone and with a
very peculiar look and a shadow of a smile, added: "It makes me almost
wish you had taken advantage of my absence just now to get away with
those tickets."
What on earth could one make of such a statement? If he'd given me
another chance I'd have taken it; but he didn't. He locked the tickets
up and sent me away, saying he would look into my affairs at once and
send for me as soon as there was any need.