VON STROMBERG
The crowd of people turned in their seats or rose and stretched their
necks to look over the heads of those who sat behind them. What they
saw was a tall, very much bedraggled individual, with a rain-soaked cap
pulled over one eye, but grinning happily and struggling up the narrow
aisle, with a disreputable looking black bag which seemed to be very
heavy. Hochwald glared at him in a startled way, and at the bag, then
turned away laughing softly to himself. But Rowland followed closely by
Herr Benz marched past him perspiring and breathless and crashed the bag
down upon the speaker's table, with a great gasp of satisfaction. He
took off his cap, shook himself like a St. Bernard dog emerging from a
bath, then wiped his forehead with a coarse red handkerchief.
"Pfui!" he said cheerfully, "I didn't think I'd ever get here!"
Herr Senf, Liederman and Madame Rochal were crowding around him shaking
him by the hand.
"You've found it?" Zoya asked in a low voice in English.
"Surest thing you know," said Rowland with a nod.
And then Senf, "Fraeulein Korasov!"
"She is here--quite safe."
Rowland's eyes quickly found Tatyana's and a look passed between them, a
look which no one in the room except perhaps Zoya Rochal, could have
read, and she did not see it. For Georg Senf was again calling the
meeting, to order and the sound of excited voices in controversy
diminished to a hum, a whisper and then to silence. Herr Senf was still
smiling. He was evidently very happy.
"Herr Rowland has justified our faith and our allegiance," he began, his
deep bass ringing with the sounding periods he loved. "You have heard
what has been said of him here tonight. If you would believe all you
have heard he is both super-man and devil! Fortunately, we are not all
so acrimonious as Herr Hochwald. Perhaps that is because we have less
at stake. I may tell you that Herr Rowland is neither super-man nor
devil but a being like you or me, a citizen of the world, thrust
suddenly, in a crisis in its affairs, into the leadership of a great
organization which brings our message to all peoples. That he has
acquitted himself with skill, good faith and devotion, you shall now see
for yourselves and decide, at least for the South German
representatives, whether he is not worthy of his high prerogatives."
The citizen of the world sat upon the speaker's table swinging his legs,
one arm affectionately around the black bag alongside of him, his
highest prerogative at that moment being the use of a pinch of dry
tobacco from the pouch of his nearest neighbor, which he was now
smoking, exhaling it through his nose luxuriously. He was very
contented and chuckled at the angry face of Herr Hochwald in front of
him.
"I will not take your time," Herr Senf went on, "to tell you the means
by which Herr Rowland discovered the whereabouts of Fraeulein Korasov.
I will let him inform you how he found her and how he has brought you
the Treasure of Nemi. Herr Rowland."
A murmur of voices pitched in low excited tones, while the occupants of
the benches leaned eagerly forward, those in the rear seats crowding and
climbing up to see over the shoulders of those in front of them.
Rowland stopped swinging his legs and crawled down from the table with
evident regret, but he laid the pipe aside and stood up facing them with
a smile. A good many things have been said about Phil Rowland's smile,
and tonight it was essentially a part of him because he couldn't
remember when he had ever been so happy in his life, and he didn't
intend to have his evening spoiled (or theirs for that matter) by making
a speech. So he began quite clearly and without the slightest
hesitation an account of the events of the evening with Herr Benz,
culminating in the discovery of Fraeulein Korasov in the room upstairs
in the villa of Count Monteori at Starnberg.
"Our friend, Herr Hochwald, had planned well," he finished. "But a
vacant house which exhales the odor of a Turkish cigarette is an object
of suspicion. The resistance of Herr Foerster was unfortunate, but if
the thought is any comfort to you, Herr Hochwald, I may tell you that
Herr Foerster is now in the care of a doctor and I hope for the best. I
succeeded in getting what I went for. Fraeulein Korasov came to you by
the evening train, because her testimony was necessary to your business.
I did not know if I could get through in time but thanks to Herr Benz,
here I am and what is more to the point here,----" tapping the bag
beside him, "here is the money."
Hochwald had risen with a swagger and a smile.
"This man is an impostor," he cried. "He is trying to deceive you.
This is the bag which Fraeulein Korasov filled with stones. Have you a
key, Herr Rowland," he asked maliciously, "that you may open it?"
Rowland laughed.
"Oh yes," he said easily and then significantly, "I found the key, Herr
Hochwald--in the chimney!"
Hochwald staggered and leaned upon the back of a chair. His face was
ghastly, for Rowland opened the bag and took out the packages one by
one, exhibited them and put them on the table.
"I think they are all here," he said. "Twenty-five of them--mostly in
thousand franc notes--a thousand in a package. Would you like to count
them, Herr Hochwald?"
There was no reply and Rowland put the packages in the bag again.
Herr Hochwald waited in a moment of hesitation and then crossed the room
toward a door beyond the speaker's table. But before he reached it, a
strange thing happened, for a man rose from a seat upon the left in a
corner where he had sat silent and unobtrusive all the evening, a very
tall man in a long linen coat with a slouch hat pulled well down over
his eyes.
"Stop that man!" he cried in quick, sharp accents. "He is under arrest!"
Hochwald halted and the two men nearest him instinctively caught him by
the arms. All eyes were upon the tall man who spoke as though with
authority. Georg Senf stared at him. Rowland looked up quickly. But
Zoya Rochal turned a startled look in his direction and muttered an
exclamation.
"And who are you, sir," asked Senf anxiously.
The tall man threw off his slouch hat and linen coat and revealed a
cadaverous figure, clad in the field gray uniform of a Prussian General.
His face was thin, wrinkled and yellow and his small eyes were hidden
under the thatch of his brows. He pushed forward, those nearest him
making way quickly and as he did so they saw the decorations which
glittered on his breast.
"The pelican!" whispered Rowland to Zoya Rochal.
A silence had fallen--a hush rather--which differed from that which had
been compelled before. It seemed now as though the breath of every
person was held in suspense, in awe--or was it terror?
The tall man reached the cleared space by the speaker's table and with a
quick gesture of authority motioned Hochwald to return.
Hochwald's eyes were starting from his head, and he seemed unable to
move, but suddenly as though obedient to a habit he couldn't resist, he
came back to the table and saluted.
"At your orders, Excellency," he stammered and stood at attention.
"I am General von Stromberg," the officer snapped in his crisp staccato
as he turned to the crowd. "Let no person leave the room. The house is
surrounded by my men. I am in command here."
Of all those within the rooms, only Rowland moved. Behind von
Stromberg's back, he seized the black bag from the table, put it down on
end upon the floor near Tanya and sat on it.
General von Stromberg folded his arms and glared along the rows of faces
which seemed to bleach row by row, under his withering glance. He
dominated them--completely, as Rowland hurriedly thought, the living
personification of the _Verboten_ sign.
"You were permitted to come into these rooms," the General began--"all
of you. But none of you," and he gave a sardonic grin, "will be
permitted--to go out."
In his long fingers, he swung a silver whistle by a silken cord. He
seemed to be playing with it, amusing himself, while he watched their
faces.
"I have been very much interested in listening to your speeches and your
testimony," he said, his thin voice caressing his words, "it has been
very interesting--ve-ry interesting. And now you shall listen to mine.
Is there anyone here who denies me the right?"
Silence. Rowland struck a light for his extinguished pipe and the
venerable Senf with some show of spirit spoke up.
"The right of free speech has not been denied us, Excellency."
Von Stromberg glanced at him and very slightly shrugged his shoulders.
"I have heard much of the rights of free speech, much more of the doings
of the Bavarian Committee. It has aroused my curiosity. That is why I
am here. Some of you are well known to me. Herr Senf, Herr Liederman,
Madame Rochal, Herr Fenner, Herr Rowland, I am glad to identify you. I
hope you will come to no harm. Perhaps it will surprise you when I say
that I am deeply in sympathy with your purpose to recover the money of
the International Society of Nemi. So large a sum if misappropriated,
if wasted or improperly used, may do an incalculable harm to your own
cause--or even to the Fatherland."
He paused and looked around the room. Then he went on amusedly.
"While I have heard many things here tonight which have greatly
enlightened me, still I am not disposed to be querulous. We will pass
them by. We will forget them. You like to meet and drink your beer and
listen to speeches. It is an amusing pastime to find fault with the
Government. You are all loyal citizens--oh I am sure of that. But I
want very much to put your loyalty to the proof, for the Fatherland now
has need of all the support, all the devotion and patriotism of its
people."
Where was he leading? The faces of the people before him showed
mystification. Zoya Rochal shot a hopeless glance at Rowland, who
frowned a little, then crossed his legs and squatted more firmly on the
black bag.
At this moment General von Stromberg turned, faced him and their glances
met.
If the General's look held a challenge, Herr Rowland could scarcely have
been aware of it, for he looked up at him, quite respectfully but with a
look of grave inquiry. Von Stromberg turned away.
"Perhaps I do not make myself clear," he went on. "Herr Rowland, the new
leader of the Society of Nemi, has brought you back your twenty-five
millions of francs that you may vote this appropriation for certain
laudable purposes. Perhaps there is some question in your minds as to
which purpose is the most desirable. Some of you wish the money to go
to Russia, some that it may be used in France, England, Italy and
America. A few of you perhaps that it shall be spent in Germany."
He laughed again and toyed with his whistle cord.
"And why not in Germany, my friends? For three years we have been at
war with the ring of enemies who are bent upon exterminating us. And
there are some among you who would send this money into the countries of
our enemies, where it will eventually go into munitions to murder your
own brothers? It is unbelievable."
"If your Excellency will permit," Rowland had risen and stood astride
like the Colossus of Rhodes with the black suit-case between his legs.
Von Stromberg turned toward him with a frown, impatient at the
interruption. But Rowland's tone, though polite was quite firm and his
smile charmingly ingenuous. "Your Excellency perhaps is unaware that
this money is not the property of this Committee to do with as it
chooses. It was contributed by men and women of many nationalities, and
is to be kept in trust by the Society which I represent for----"
"A grave responsibility for one so young, Herr Rowland," the General
broke in suddenly. And then with much politeness, "Will you permit me
to continue?"
Rowland laughed.
"No," he said clearly. "Not if you're going to urge the appropriation
of this money for interests with which the Society of Nemi has nothing
in common."
At this effrontery those in the front seats gasped, but there was a deep
murmur of approval among those at the rear of the room.
General von Stromberg merely smiled.
"I claim the right to speak. I ask for a ruling from the chair. Herr
Senf----"
The chairman frowned and rose.
"Excellency," he gasped. "You may speak."
"Thanks. I will not detain you long. Herr Rowland has chosen to bring
up the question of the ownership of the money, on the ground of its
contribution by people of many nationalities. My reply is that Germany
recognizes but two groups of peoples on the earth, its allies and its
enemies. In the one case, the money is ours because we have contributed
it--in the other it is ours----" he lowered his voice and spoke the
words softly--but everyone in the rooms heard him--"because--we take
it."
As he finished, he turned slowly and with a significant gesture.
"Herr Rowland will bring the suit-case here--to the table."
Rowland remained immovable but his eyes narrowed and his lips
compressed.
"You can hardly expect me to comply with such a request----"
Von Stromberg frowned.
"I don't request, I command," he said sharply.
Rowland's features relaxed again and he burst into a good humored laugh.
"You can't mean it, Excellency. You are too wise. It would lead to
trouble--serious trouble----"
Something in Rowland's tone, more than the words themselves, arrested
Von Stromberg's attention.
"Trouble!" he repeated. "What trouble?"
"Merely that I might feel compelled to call a revolution," said Rowland
pleasantly.
Von Stromberg glared at him a moment, his closely cropped bullet-like
head, deep between his shoulders. Then suddenly he straightened and a
smile twisted at the end of his lips.
"You have a strange sense of humor, Herr Rowland. A revolution! In
Germany?" he laughed. "Surely the time is not yet when a polite
adventurer from the United States, our most deadly enemy,----"
"_Your_ most deadly enemy, Baron von Stromberg," Rowland broke in. And
then with a wave of his hand, "Not theirs!"
"Ah, Herr Rowland, I must pay you the tribute of admiration," said the
General with a bow of mock humility. "You are a brave man--so brave
that it seems a pity to arrest you--to shoot you tonight--as a spy. It
would pain me deeply----"
"Not so much as it would me, Herr General," said Rowland, "or those
whose cause I represent," he continued, his voice ringing clearly, "for
that shot would echo from one end of Germany to the other."
A roar of approval rang through the Hall. "That is true!" roared a
voice, and another, "He does not dare!"
General von Stromberg stood erect, quiet, searching out with his keen
eyes those members of the Committee who had spoken, waiting for the
outbreak to cease. Then when quiet was restored, he shrugged a shoulder
and with a quick gesture of his fingers toward Rowland,
"Herr Rowland is there," he said with a smile. "Quite safe, unharmed.
That is my reply. He shall remain quite safe, unharmed and go whence he
came, to conduct his own business and yours--upon certain conditions. I
like this loyalty to his great trust. It is quite admirable." He
smiled slowly. "Fortunately this Committee can lift from his shoulders
the weight of his responsibility."
"How, Excellency?"
Von Stromberg's smile vanished and he spoke with great deliberateness,
each word falling with icy distinctness upon the hush of the crowd.
"By voting this money as I shall direct," he said.
"Your Excellency!" Senf had risen at last to the full majesty of his
outraged dignity. "That may not be. I cannot permit such a vote to be
taken," he broke in.
The hoarse murmur of approval had risen again and here and there a
reckless note of anger punctuated the commotion. General von Stromberg
listened coolly, his twisted smile unpleasantly unhumorous.
"Silence!" he snapped, and the noise of voices diminished but did not
cease. A rumble of thunder outside added to the din. Electricity was
in the air. But Von Stromberg stood upright, swinging his whistle by
its silken cord.
"Silence!" he repeated. "I command you!"
The habit of obedience compelled them and they sat silent at last, but
there were angry faces among them.
"My friends, this toy in my fingers is harmless enough. But if I put it
to my lips, you will be shot as you sit upon your benches----"
"We can die but once----" broke in a clear high voice almost beside him.
Tatyana had risen pale and erect, her hands at her sides and faced him
calmly.
"We can die but once," she repeated again more insistently as though she
feared he might not have heard.
Von Stromberg stared at her in a moment of silence, then without
replying turned to Herr Senf who still stood, trembling with anger.
"You refuse to obey my command?" asked the General.
"I do."
"Then _I_ will take the chair," he grinned. "Herr Hochwald! You will
take pencil and paper and record the vote." And then raising his voice
so that it rang sharply through the rooms.
"It has been moved by Herr General Graf von Stromberg, Privy Councillor
of His Majesty the Emperor----"
He paused to grin in self-gratulation--"that the funds of the Society of
Nemi at the present moment in the custody of the Central Socialist
Revolutionary Committee of Bavaria, be and hereby are appropriated for
the uses of the Socialist Party in the Reichstag as his Imperial Majesty
may direct."
A death-like silence had now fallen. What did it portend? Rowland
stood as though the smile had frozen on his lips, the impudence of this
old man was more wonderful than anything he had ever witnessed in his
life--one man against two hundred enemies, so sure of himself and of the
power that he represented--that there seemed to be not a doubt in his
own mind as to the outcome of his audacity. Rowland could have shot him
as he stood, but feared. Their leader could not stand alone. Senf was
plainly frightened.
It was _their_ fight--those others. He set his jaws in a moment of
fury. Were they stuffed men--images? Where was the defiance he had
heard so brave upon their lips today? Shriveled in their hearts with
the terror that made them dumb. He had no definite plan, but he
measured the distance to the door behind the table, resolved that if the
worst came the money and Tanya would go with him from this room. What a
fool he had been to bring it here.
"We will now vote," Von Stromberg's voice broke in again. "Herr
Hochwald will record your names as you come forward. He will also take
your addresses. We will proceed--the first now--from the right. Herr
Fenner----"
The man who a moment ago had swayed Tanya by his fervor and sincerity,
rose and came forward slowly.
"I know you very well, Herr Fenner," Von Stromberg was saying, "You have
devised a bomb which has proved quite efficient. One of your bombs
exploded last month in the rifle-assembling room at Essen. Fortunately
no one was injured. You are an inventor, Herr Fenner. I pray you to
invent an excuse for this outrage which will make you innocent."
"Excellency, I----"
The man's face was the color of parchment.
"How do you vote, Herr Fenner?" asked Von Stromberg with a leer. "_For_
the resolution----? Or against it?"
"For----" the man gasped in a half whisper. "I vote for----"
Von Stromberg grinned.
"Good!" he cried jovially. "The force of example will be of inestimable
value. Herr Liederman!"
The bulky form of the Socialist approached, his brows twitching, his
face suffused with blood.
"Excellency. I am Councilor of the Order of Nemi."
"Max Liederman," cut in the sharp voice. "Socialist-Democrat. Owns
property in Stuttgart which may be desired by the Government. Accepted
money from the discredited Baron von Weiler in the case of----"
"Excellency, enough!" said Liederman chokingly.
"How do you vote?" thundered Von Stromberg.
"For--Excellency," muttered Liederman.
"Quite right. You see how the wind blows?" And then, with a smile,
"Zoya Rochal!"
Madame Rochal approached and her eyes and Rowland's met. The look in
his compelled her and she faced the General with desperate coolness.
"Ah, Madame. And you----?"
"I vote No----" she said firmly, her lips compressed, her eyes closed.
"One moment, Madame, in case you should feel any uncertainty--you are a
Russian by birth, the daughter of Alexiev Manuilov, a dealer in hides in
Odessa. You were a very beautiful child. At the age of seventeen, you
ran away from home with an English gambler named----"
"Is my _dossier_ necessary, Excellency?" she muttered, with bowed head.
----"named Wishart," he continued relentlessly. "You were next heard of
in Constantinople, where you were a part of the household of Mustapha
Bey----"
"Excellency----!"
"In Paris, whither you fled with a French rug agent named Dunois, you
met the Duc de Noailles----"
"Excellency, I pray that you----"
----"who shot himself, when you ran away to Austria with----"
"For the love of God, Excellency----"
----"with Baron Meyerling of the Embassy. But he repudiated you when he
discovered that his secretary----"
"Excellency, enough. I will vote----"
"How--Madame----?"
Rowland caught one glimpse of her face in this moment of her disgrace.
Her glance met his and fell, she seemed in a moment to have grown years
older.
"Your vote----?" Von Stromberg laughed. "How--Madame?"
No one heard her reply but General von Stromberg announced quite coolly,
"_For_, Herr Hochwald."
And Zoya Rochal sought her seat, her head bowed, broken and defeated.
Baron von Stromberg was greatly enjoying himself. He leaned against the
edge of the table and as each man came up, transfixed him with a look,
hypnotic and deeply suggestive of the power of his malice.
But in another moment a change was to come--one of those astonishing
shifts of the psychology of a crowd. For one man voted "No" defiantly,
the big man in the blouse who had been so violent earlier in the
evening.
"Stand aside, Herr Borsch," snapped Von Stromberg.
"With _me_," cried Rowland, joyously. He might have been shouting
"Montjoie!" with his famous namesake in defiance of the Saracens.
"And me," cried another nearby, rising from his seat.
"And me----!"
"And me----!"
The crowd had leaped to its feet as though with one accord, the chorus
swelled and the rooms rocked with the tumult. Von Stromberg
straightened and his right hand which held the whistle moved slowly
toward his lips.
Rowland bent over Tanya and whispered something. The movement caught
Hochwald's eye.
"Excellency!" he shouted.
As Von Stromberg turned, the whistle already in his lips, he gazed
straight into the muzzle of Rowland's automatic.
"Blow, Excellency----"
The shrill whistle and the shot sounded at the same moment. Von
Stromberg seemed to stumble and fall. As Hochwald reached for a weapon
Borsch fell upon him and bore him to the ground by the sheer weight of
his body. Other shots rang out further down the rooms. A woman's scream
punctuated the roar. A rush of feet in the hallways outside--doors flew
open, and soldiers appeared, the lamplight glinting on helmet, spike and
bayonet. At the sight of soldiers there was a roar of fury.
"Down with the soldiers! Kill! The hour of deliverance is here! Kill!
Kill!"
There was a crash of glass as one of the lamps went down--another. The
rooms were in darkness except for the flashes of the lightning through
the dirty windows. Rowland seized the suit-case and pushed through the
crowd which surged toward the door, his arm around Tanya. The soldiers
were trying to keep the crowd inside. A furious struggle followed, shots
were fired and men fell.
"It is impossible--that way," cried Rowland in Tanya's ear. "Come."
A few had escaped by a rear window which let upon the roof of an
adjoining house. Outside, too, above the roar of the thunder, came the
sharp note of firearms. But there was no other chance. Rowland went
first, stumbling over a figure that had fallen just outside and as he
reached the roof there was a flash in the darkness and a bullet crashed
into the woodwork of the window. He stood still, sheltering Tanya with
the black suit-case, while she descended, his weapon in line, waiting
for the flash of lightning to reveal the whereabouts of the sniper. A
gleam of light. A German officer at the top of the slanting roof above
him, deliberately reloading his weapon. Fortunately the roof had a low
pitch. Rowland waited a moment until Tanya was behind him and then
clambered upward, the suit-case clasped in front of him, firing as he
went. The officer toppled, caught at the chimney-breast beside him,
missed it, and falling, slid head first down the slippery roof and
disappeared. Rowland gained the top, a flat space buttressed by
chimneys which adjoined a larger building upon the right, hauled Tanya
up beside him and then hurried along toward its further end, hoping to
find a roof adjoining. But as he did so, his toe struck a projection
and he fell sprawling, just as two soldiers clambered up and began
firing. Rowland heard Tanya's cry of dismay.
"All right," he cried reassuringly. "The other chimney--hide."
She obeyed. And Rowland waited until the nearest soldier had almost
reached him when with the last shot in his weapon he fired point blank
into his body. The man crashed down, his rifle falling just beside
Rowland's hand. With a cry of joy he seized it and rose. The other man
fired. Rowland felt the bullet pass through his clothing somewhere and
was surprised that he felt no pain and did not fall. Instead he found
himself erect, standing quite firmly upon his feet, his keen gaze
seeking the point of the bayonet of his adversary. This was a game he
knew. He aimed at the approaching figure and pulled the trigger of his
rifle but there was only a harmless click. The chamber was empty. But
the other man had not fired again. A flash of lightning revealed him--a
mere boy, very pale and uncertain. It seemed a pity--he was so young.
And then he heard the boy's voice.
"_Kamerad!_" it said. "_Kamerad!_"
And Rowland waited a moment.
"Hold up your hands."
The boy obeyed, whimpering.
"I do not want to kill my own people," he said.
"You are sure?"
"Yes, yes."
"Good. Nor do I." And then, after a moment more, "Go thou then and
tell them that the roof is cleared."
In a moment Rowland had dropped the rifle and joined Tanya by the
chimney.
"You're not hurt?" she whispered in a lull of the storm.
"No, I think not. And you?"
She reassured him quickly.
"Thank God for that."
The rain was still pouring in torrents. Behind them the tumult of the
baited crowd, but upon the roof upon which they hid there was no one.
The boy had been true to his word.
He took the weapon of Herr Foerster which he had not had time to draw
from his other pocket, picked up the suit-case and looked around.
"Come," he said. "There must be some way out of this."