VII

The house they entered lay on the border of the inner city, in one of

the mean, sordid streets leading to Schwabing. Its outward appearance,

like its neighbours’, showed an unimposing façade. It was one of those

shops having lodgings above, and the sliding shutters over the shop

were drawn to the ground. It was too dark to read the name, but Wenk

noticed the number, that of his birth-year--’76.

They entered a dirty stairway in which hung a dusty globe, which gave

an indifferent light to the changing population who inhabited such

houses as these, and then ascended two flights of stairs. A heavy door

opened before them, and in a corridor at the side a light shone out

over the miserable staircase. The corridor ran alongside the staircase;

it was completely empty: a cheap and shabby black and white drugget

ran throughout its length, and its walls were covered with faded

paper-hangings.

“This is lively,” said Cara, “but just wait a moment!”

Then a small door opened from the corridor and a light streamed forth

into the gloomy darkness. They looked upon a swelter of luxury.

There was a little _foyer_ with cushions and curtains, cloakroom

accommodation, little restaurant tables, etc. There was the odour of

prepared foods and the popping of champagne corks. People they did not

know were sitting there. The visitors laid aside hats and coats and

went through into the restaurant.

Yes, there things looked different. On entry, the place recalled the

promenade of a well-known Théâtre de Variétés in Paris. Through little

peep-holes or from the boxes one could see a smooth surface gleaming

with light. This was the gaming-table, and it was of immense size. In

the middle there was a circular opening in which was placed a large

revolving chair. It was the seat for the croupier. Around the table the

places for the players were arranged like boxes. Every box--there were

some single ones, some for two and some for four persons--lay shut off

from the rest and in darkness, and all were furnished with comfortable

seats. People could be entirely separated from each other by a curtain,

and a grating, like those of the Parisian theatres, could be drawn at

will. The players might gamble there as securely as if masked, and,

without being recognized or even seen, could indulge their passion for

the tables.

Two miniature rails led from each seat to the croupier, and upon these

stood a little truck. This was to carry the stakes down and later bring

the winnings back. The sum was made known by sliding numbers displayed

on a board. The pressure of a button sent each vehicle to its destined

spot.

On the dome above the table, in the circle formed by the boxes, were

the _petits chevaux_ in varied colours. The little brass horses had

been carved by a Cubist, and painted in their various colours with

highly glazed enamel. They were set in motion by a crank turned by

the croupier. In the middle, beneath the horses, there hung a little

searchlight which, lighted from below, reflected light upon the dome,

and in this light they ran with the dome as a background. This was

painted in the colours of the spectrum arranged alternately, so that

there was always a dark horse against a light colour and a light one

against a dark colour, followed by their shadows. This gave the effect

of promiscuity which was intensified the faster they ran. The goal was

formed by a thin strip of tiny electric lights let into the dome, and

every box had an arrangement of mirrors by which its occupants could

clearly recognize the winner.

Wenk and his companions took their places in a box for four, which

seemed to have been reserved for them. Cara and Karstens sat in front,

the two other men behind.

When the boxes were all filled, the croupier gathered his elegant

evening dress about him, and slowly began to revolve in his seat, as if

on a mechanical rotating disk, while he delivered the following oration:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the ‘Go-ahead’ Institute. The ‘Go-ahead’

has in itself the roots of vigour and success. We live in times of

change, and our undertaking is designed to suit all comers. Here you

can play alone, or as a pair, or in company. You can play alone,

because you can have a box for one person only, like the charming

lady of whom I can see no more than the red heron’s feathers in her

coiffure. If you think that for good luck two heads are better than

one, you can seclude yourself from your fellows like yonder elegant

cavalier and his lady; and if you choose to play in company you are

equally invisible from my point of view. In the dome, ladies and

gentlemen, you will find our game, the game of the house, I may venture

to call it, although every other game is equally at your service. There

you see the _petits chevaux_ of the ‘Go-ahead’ Institute. One of the

first artists of our day, whose work you are constantly encountering in

exhibitions and periodicals, has designed them for the ‘Go-ahead,’ and

placed them here, and we have united art with technique, the strongest

product of the age. The reflecting apparatus allows everyone from any

place whatsoever to see at once and quite distinctly whether his horse

is in at the finish. Allow me to demonstrate to you, by a mere turn of

the handle, the very artistic and effective play and counterplay which

is developing in the dome. There was once a man who had no shadow, but

that cannot be said of our _petits chevaux_. Notice, I beseech you, the

extremely artistic effect produced when substance and shadow thus unite

in a piece of work which in its resourcefulness and originality does

the greatest credit to the artist of our house....”

He turned the crank, and horses and shadows chased each other with

kaleidoscopic effect. It formed a pretty and a fanciful picture. Slowly

the horses came to a standstill.

“I had staked on that one,” exclaimed a woman’s voice as the

cream-coloured bay stopped beneath the goal, and in its head the eyes

gleamed forth like stars. They were formed of small electric lamps.

The croupier said: “I will not detain you much longer from trying your

luck, dear madam. I have only now to introduce to you the epoch-making

novelty of the ‘Go-ahead’ Institute. What would you do, ladies and

gentlemen” (here he raised his voice), “if the police were suddenly to

intrude upon you and rob you of your money and your freedom on account

of your forbidden game? You need have no anxiety on that score. We have

hit upon an arrangement which might be called a _garde-police_. The

‘Go-ahead’ Institute may await the police quite calmly. They may be

surrounded and inundated by the police. With a pressure of my little

finger I can turn the whole police force of the city away from you and

let them go ahead elsewhere. Look here!”

He raised his hand, then lowered it with affected impressiveness,

pressing his forefinger down upon the black knob near him. A moment

later the surface of the table was set in motion, and it began to sink.

It moved rapidly and noiselessly, and the speaker sank down with it.

The boxes remained stationary, but from the dome the little horses and

the coloured circles descended--came past the boxes; the dome followed,

and a few minutes later a quartette of nude twelve-year-old children

were to be seen dancing, upon a new stage, to the strains of fiddles

and harps, which began to resound from some invisible quarter. A body

of men, dressed in the uniform of the city police, trooped into the

boxes, exclaiming, “We were told they were gambling here! Where are the

gamblers?”

Everybody in the boxes roared with laughter. The girls continued

dancing, and the uniformed police threw off their disguise and appeared

in evening dress, laughing. The floor began to move again, the girls

still dancing, one of them making a gesture to a gentleman sitting

alone, who sprang towards her, but failed to reach his vanishing

charmer. The floor once more became the ceiling, the _petits chevaux_

reappeared, and in the centre of the gaming-table sat the croupier once

again.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, we do give the police something for

their pains--the nude girls! And if the case were really serious, they

would soon have a scrap of clothing on. I have to announce that there

is a change of programme every week....” He continued for some time

further in this way.

“This is only an ordinary cinema,” said Wenk, turning to Karstens, and

whispering, “the most ordinary kind of cinema. If the police were to

come, they would discover the whole trick in ten minutes.”

Karstens merely shrugged his shoulders.

Wenk wondered what the aim of such an establishment could be, for it

was bound to be discovered and closed within a week’s time, and the

outlay must have been considerable.

Hull was much struck, having nothing with which to compare what he saw

and heard there.

“Ravishing! enchanting!” said Cara from time to time. “We live in

ingenious times, don’t we? We must come here often, mustn’t we, Eddie?

Which are you going to stake on? I am choosing the black Arab. Black

for me, please Eddie, because you are so fair!”

Karstens cast an amused glance at Wenk. A supper of the most varied and

recherché dainties was provided. Things which seemed to have vanished

in the depreciation of the German currency were seen--_pâté de foie

gras_, fresh truffles, caviare, fieldfares.... In front of a pile of

truffles and _foie gras_, inhaling its pleasant odour, Karstens said

suddenly:

“Our mark to-day stands at seven in Switzerland, but it is seven

centimes, and here things which we have forgotten we ever ordered are

provided for us.”

“Here a mark is worth less than seven centimes,” said Wenk, downcast

and depressed. Whither was it all tending? His heart yearned for help

in his enterprise, and he had no appetite for dainties.

Cara trilled a popular ditty, and Hull, in spite of the influence which

she exercised over him, and his enjoyment of unwonted dainties, began

secretly to be somewhat ashamed. He resolved to send her a parting

present on the morrow, and it should be the parure of Australian opals

she so ardently desired, which a Russian princess, anxious to get on

the stage by Cara’s help, was willing to sell. “This should end it

all,” said Hull to himself. He was disenchanted, and yet at the same

time melancholy. What would become of her? For himself, he almost

thought he would prefer the cloister to....

Just then he savoured a delicious mouthful of truffle, and as he

smacked his lips over it, Hull thought, “Well, there’s something to be

said for this sort of thing, after all. I should not get any more aspic

... and I’ve not broken with her yet, anyhow!...”

Suddenly Wenk got up to go.

“Where are you off to?” cried Cara, excited in a moment.

Karstens turned to her at this instant, separating her from Wenk,

who left the hall undisturbed. He took his overcoat quickly from the

vestibule and was conducted downstairs. The concierge opened the door

for him, looking first through the peep-hole into the street. Then he

exclaimed in great excitement: “Sir, there is a policeman standing

there!” He opened the door, however, and Wenk went out. The policeman

saluted. Wenk saw the uniformed official smiling, and looking back,

found the concierge smiling too. The “policeman” belonged to the

“Go-ahead” Institute. If a real policeman were to enter the street, as

the concierge hastily informed the departing guest, he would see that

there was already someone on guard and move off.

Wenk soon reached the spot where he had ordered his chauffeur to

wait. He was resolved to have this place closed, but he did not want

the affair to get into the papers, and on his drive homeward he

was considering how best to formulate the charge. If possible the

place should not be described, but the cause should be given as that

of disturbance of the peace, misleading of the public, swindling

performances, or something of that kind. He worked the matter out

fully, engaged in his conflict with the “Go-ahead” Institute, and while

still in his car, in his character of prosecuting counsel, he conducted

an indictment which through his skill and stratagem should eliminate

this plague-spot from public life without folks perceiving what it

actually was.

Before he slept, his thoughts, without any apparent connection to

guide them, reverted to Hull, who stood suddenly revealed to him as

typical of the young men of the age. Bound by a liaison with a vulgar,

good-for-nothing girl, whose only talent was to exhibit herself on

the stage; elegantly dressed, without being elegant; spending his

restless evenings between gaming-houses, night-clubs, and the arms of

a courtesan--this was Hull’s life. Yet if he had taken the right turn

he might have put his intelligence and all his available energies into

administering an estate or pursuing a well-ordered peaceful life as an

official of some kind; he might have been the head of a happy household

and the father of legitimate children.

Many such men there were, strong in body and mind, living merely on

their nerves, dedicating to a life of the senses powers which would

have made them successful in the walk of life for which they were

destined. Hull and his kind, feeble and enervated, represented the

spirit of the age. What would the dawn of such a midnight yield?

Wenk went to the telephone and gave the address of the new

gaming-house. The official whose duty it was to watch over Herr Hull

was to get in touch with him at once, but do no more than keep him in

sight when he left the house.

* * * * *

In the middle of a deep sleep the telephone at Wenk’s bedside began

ringing. It was just two hours since he had returned home, and he was

wide awake at once. “Wenk speaking!” said he, and he felt certain in

some subconscious region of his mind, which was in tune with his last

waking thoughts, that the news awaiting him on the telephone was in

some dread, mysterious fashion concerned with Hull.

“Wenk speaking!” he called again, and his whole body was trembling with

excitement.

“Here, sir; the police sergeant on duty.”

“Be quick!” said Wenk, his imagination running riot. What was there to

report?

The voice at the other end spoke hastily: “The gentleman named Edgar

Hull, who was under police protection ... has been murdered this night.

In the open street, too, about 2 a.m. Another gentleman, name of

Karstens, has been seriously wounded. The constable who was detailed

to watch over him is also wounded, and both have been taken to the

hospital. A lady who was with these gentlemen was arrested at the order

of the wounded man. I have ordered the body to be left lying exactly as

it was found until you have seen it yourself. The Service car is on its

way to your honour. Please ring off!”

“Ring off!” echoed Wenk’s voice agitatedly.

He hastened to dress, for the car was already to be heard throbbing

outside. He went down the dark staircase, forgetting to turn a light

on. Then, when he perceived the car in the street, his profile revealed

the jaws drawn firmly together, in the necessity of meeting calmly the

tragic circumstances in which he was involved, and entering into every

detail of this deed of blood perpetrated in the darkness of the night,

so that he might be enabled to act to the best advantage.

During the drive, something within him compelled him to take himself

to task. “I had no business to tremble,” he thought, “when this news

reached me. I must be prepared to face even my own death unflinchingly.

I must school myself further. I must develop all my tastes and

interests and use them in the service of my life’s goal; then only

shall I be equal to my task....”

Hull’s body lay in the darkness. Four men in sombre clothing were

silhouetted around him, and they stepped back as their chief descended

from the car. Wenk ordered them--they were constables--to watch the

entrances to the street and allow no one to approach the scene of the

murder, which was in a gloomy street-turning behind the Wittelsbach

Palace. Not a soul was to be seen in any of the houses.

One of the constables said that none of the public had been near the

place since the occurrence.

It was now three o’clock in the morning. By the light of an electric

torch Wenk gazed upon the corpse. There was a gaping wound from the

neck down the back, and the body lay with its face to the earth. Thus

the police had found Hull when their colleague, blinded with pepper

and bleeding from a wound, whistled for help. The body lay motionless,

curled up like the gnarled root of a tree. The blood which had flowed

from its wounds shone like black marble under the searching light. Wenk

was convulsed with horror at the mental images he sought to overcome.

He tried to photograph the details of the scene upon his memory,

getting the exact position of the corpse. He wrote down the number of

the house, tried to ascertain whether all the doors and windows in the

neighbourhood were closed, whether any footprints could be seen, or any

objects connected with the crime found in the immediate vicinity, but

nothing was to be discovered. Its perpetrators had escaped into the

palace grounds, one of the policemen had told him, and at one bound

they had disappeared. Wenk examined the walls; there, too, there was

nothing to be learnt.

He sent a constable to fetch a car to remove the body, and ordered that

nobody was to come into the street on any account. Those who tried to

force their way in should be arrested, but people were to be treated

with politeness, he said. He then drove to the hospital where the

wounded men were lying.

He found Karstens unconscious, and the doctor informed him that he had

had a severe wound in the back from a narrow and apparently four-edged

dagger, and a blow from some blunt object had probably been aimed at

his head. The constable had not been so severely handled, and his were

mainly flesh-wounds. His shoulder and upper arm were bandaged, but he

could scarcely open his eyes even yet.

He related his story thus:

“Just before 2 a.m. the deceased, with a lady and another gentleman,

came out of the house which had been pointed out to me. In front of it

a constable was standing, and that seemed odd, for I thought to myself,

‘Why is he standing there instead of being on his beat?’ He stood there

for at least an hour; then I thought I would speak to him, but he said

roughly, ‘What do _you_ want? Go away,’ and came threateningly towards

me. I was just going to show him my number-plate when the door opened,

and although it was dark I could recognize Herr von Hull. The constable

pushed me away, and as I did not want to be noticed I moved aside, but

I saw that Herr von Hull had a lady and gentleman with him. They went

off quickly in the direction of the Ludwigstrasse, and the policeman

and I were about three houses away in the other direction. Then he

turned to the house again, saying to me, ‘Now you had better be off!’ I

didn’t bother any more about him, but followed, at some distance, the

lady and the two gentlemen. They turned out of the Türkenstrasse into

the Gabelsbergerstrasse and disappeared from my sight. I hurried after

them, but could not see them anywhere. They could not have got any

further than the Jägerstrasse. Suddenly I heard cries; they were shrill

and then stifled. The war had taught me that that was how men in fear

of death cry out. Before I could even see anybody I whistled for help,

and ran to the street as hard as I could, drawing my revolver.

“I hadn’t gone far when I was suddenly seized from behind. My eyes

smarted terribly, and I felt a thrust in my shoulder. I wanted to pull

the trigger, but my revolver was no longer in my hand and my arm hung

quite limp. Then I thought, ‘I had better do as our major used to

advise us--fall down and lie as if I were dead.’ So I fell down and

someone sat on me, and shoved something at me, holding my mouth. There

may have been two of them; I can’t tell, for I closed my eyes. They

must have rushed at me from a doorway, and I was half insensible by

that time. What happened after that I do not distinctly remember, but I

heard footsteps running, and I was lifted up. It was another constable,

and I quickly told him what had happened and he ran on into the street.

Then a second one came running up. ‘Police!’ I shouted to him. ‘Yes,’

he called back; ‘what is the matter?’ ‘Run round the corner, quick!’ I

told him.

“I forced myself to rise, and then found I was not so badly wounded

after all, though I couldn’t open my eyes. They had thrown pepper at

them. I groped my way round the corner, but I could not see anything.

It was the noise that guided me to the spot. I heard someone speaking,

and a woman’s voice answering. ‘What is the matter?’ I said, and a

voice answered, ‘He said we were to take the female into custody.’

‘Who are you?’ I asked the woman, and she answered, ‘I am an actress,

the friend of Herr Hull. What do you want with me?’ I said, ‘If the

gentleman said so, arrest her!’ She protested, and said she wanted to

speak to Dr. Wenk, the State agent, at once, but the constable said she

could do that later. Then she tried to run away, and there was a good

deal of confusion and bother, and finally the constable had to handcuff

her, she was so defiant, and I heard her call out ‘George.’ So I told

them to arrest her, and I don’t know what happened after that, for I

fainted, and when I came to again I was in the ambulance. I am badly

wounded. Will your honour please tell me the truth: am I going to die?”

Then the doctor laughed in his face.

“No, please, I want his honour to tell me. It’s the doctor’s job to

tell people they are not going to die.”

“But, my good Voss, how can you imagine you are going to die? You have

some flesh-wounds and some nasty bumps, but a man like you doesn’t die

of those things!”

“Indeed, your honour, I have done my duty!” said the injured man. His

voice began to falter; then the tension relaxed and he began to weep

quietly and unrestrainedly. “I know ... no more.... I have ... done ...

my duty!” he stammered.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” said Wenk reassuringly. “He who

stakes his life upon it certainly does his duty, for no one can offer

anything he values more! But now, Voss, I want you to promise me

something, and shake hands upon it. You won’t tell anyone else what you

have seen or gone through this night ... and I beg the same thing of

you, doctor. A great deal depends upon it, for the public at large. I

beg you to lay this very much to heart. It is not the pursuit of one

crime, but of a generation of crime.”

From the constable who had been first on the spot Wenk learnt that

he had seen several figures near the wall of the park, but darkness

prevented his counting their number, nor could he describe them. He

was stopped by one of the gentlemen, who tried to stand up and then

clutched hold of him, saying two or three times over, “Arrest the

woman--arrest the woman.”

“Then at last he fell back and let me go,” went on the man. “Then I

could run a few steps and I saw those figures close to the wall going

round the park, but when I reached it, there was no one there. They

must have had accomplices on the other side of the wall. I wanted to go

after them, but I couldn’t manage it; it was far too high to climb, so

I came back to the spot.”

“And the woman?” asked Wenk. “What about her?”

“I had the impression....”

“Now, Stamm, I don’t want to hear your _impressions_--I only want to

know what you saw with your eyes and heard with your ears. You will be

scrupulously exact, won’t you?”

“Yes, indeed, your honour. When I came back, one of our men was holding

the woman fast. I said to him, ‘Arrest her; the gentleman there said

so. Arrest her at all costs! Hold her fast, don’t let her escape!’

We were all a bit excited, and she shouted out that she wanted to

see Herr von Wenk, and no one was going to arrest _her_. She made a

good deal of resistance, sir, and finally we had to tie her hands.

There were only two of us, and we had to help the wounded and our own

colleague. We did not know in the least what had happened, for we had

only just....”

“_We?_ Tell me only what you yourself have seen.”

“Then I began to try and find out what had happened. There was a man

lying on the ground bathed in blood. He seemed to be dead, for he was

quite still. The other was groaning. Then a third constable came up,

and we sent him to telephone for the ambulance and make a report to the

Criminal Division and let your honour know. That was what Voss had told

us to do first of all.”

“What was the woman doing all this time?”

“The second of our men took her to the guard-room.”

“Don’t go on with your story, Stamm, till I have spoken to him. What is

his name? Keep yourself in readiness to report again; do you hear? And

remember, not a word of this outside the official circle--not even to

your wife. Give me your word of honour!”

“Yes, indeed, sir. The other man’s name is Wasserschmidt.”

Wasserschmidt duly appeared.

“You arrested a woman to-night who was present when the two gentlemen

were attacked,” said Wenk. “Why did you do that?”

“I did it because constable Stamm said that one of the gentlemen,

before he became insensible, called out to him to do so, and my

colleague Voss gave me the order too.”

At this moment the telephone rang in the bureau of the Criminal

Investigation Department, where Wenk was conducting these inquiries.

“Who is speaking?” he asked.

“This is the night editor’s office of the Central News Agency. We have

just been informed of a murder....”

“One moment, please,” said Wenk angrily. “Who gave you that

information?”

“I can tell you that without betraying any editorial secrets, for it

was given anonymously, so to speak. Our night-bell rang, and as I went

to the window I saw a man going away. When I opened it and asked what

was the matter, he called out, ‘Look in the letter-box!’ Then I went

down and found a letter in the box.”

“Can you read me what was in the letter? The State agent for

prosecutions is speaking!”

“Yes, certainly, sir, one moment. The letter runs: ‘Edgar Hull,

Esquire, was attacked and murdered in the Jägerstrasse in the early

hours of this morning. The criminals have escaped. It appears to have

been an act of revenge, for the murdered man frequented gambling

circles.’ That’s all there is.”

“Does anybody in the newspaper staff know about this letter?”

“No.”

“Can you bring this letter to me yourself immediately? I will send a

Service car for you.”

“But, sir, that would be a very difficult matter. I am alone here, and

I must complete the Press matter.”

“What is your name?”

“Grube.”

“Well, Herr Grube, there’s no difficulty in the matter, when I tell you

very decidedly that your coming here is of the utmost importance, far

and away more important than that to-morrow morning every Tom, Dick and

Harry should be able to discuss such a piece of news while he eats his

breakfast.”

“But my duty is ...” he began, but Wenk interrupted him.

“Don’t take it ill that my time won’t permit of my saying any more now,

save that the police car is on its way to bring you here. The constable

is furnished with the necessary authority. Arrange your Press matter

so that the sheet can be printed without the information you have just

given me about a murder. Au revoir, Herr Grube. Ring off, please.”

Wenk sent off the car immediately.

“Well, now, Wasserschmidt, to continue. The lady offered resistance.

How did she do that?”

“She ran a few paces from me towards the wall of the Wittelsbach

Palace, to which the criminals had hurried, and then called out,

‘George.’”

“You heard that yourself?”

“Yes, quite distinctly, and she pronounced the name ‘Georsh.’ And as

she began to run towards the wall too, I did not wait any longer, but I

tied her hands together.”

“And what did she do then?”

“Then she became quieter, and let us take her away. As we were going,

she said again, ‘I shall certainly be able to speak to Herr von Wenk,

shall I not?’ ‘Well, you will have to wait till after he has had his

breakfast,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I could telephone to him?’ but I said that

wasn’t very likely.”

“And then later? Where is the lady now?”

“Still at the guard-room. She spoke quite calmly and said, ‘You have

made a very serious mistake, my good man; but I hope to be able to

set you right with Herr Wenk, for, after all, you are only doing what

you conceive to be your duty. I was with the gentleman who has been

attacked, and the State Attorney was there too, but he went home a

little earlier, or else he would have been in it as well.’ ‘Let us wait

and see!’ was all I said to that.”

“Did you happen to tell her _why_ you had arrested her?”

“No, not a word.”

“That’s right. Wait in the next room.”

Wenk interviewed others, and finally the assistant-editor arrived. He

protested loudly against this high-handed action of the authorities,

and said that his newspaper....

“If it is the duty of your newspaper to serve its readers up the latest

scandal, whether it be a murder or the unlucky ending of a love-affair,

merely because it is a scandal, in as hasty and disconnected a fashion

as it was reported to you ... you would be right to protest. But you

have no right to hinder the authorities whose duty it is to deal with

infinitely more important matters so that you may satisfy fools with a

thirst for gossip.”

“But,” stammered the editor, in an excited tone, “but you are trying to

stifle the Press. We are not living under the old system, you know. The

Republic will....”

“I have no time to bother about what the Republic will do. Be so good

as to give me the letter you telephoned me about!”

“I am sorry,” said the editor, with a confident and self-satisfied air.

“These are Press secrets.”

“Pardon my saying so, editor, but you really are very foolish. I

respect any Press secrets which protect the interests of the community,

but your refusal to give me this letter only injures them. Before I

take it from you by force (an action which would lay you open to a

penalty for resisting the law), I will tell you that this letter is

the only piece of evidence we have at present of an unusually serious

crime. Perhaps then you will become more reasonable, and not entrench

yourself behind the plea of your professional duty, which, as I have

already stated, I do recognize, though I place it far below the

interests which I represent.”

Grube felt uncertain how to act. Finally he brought out the document,

saying, “I deliver it under protest, and....”

“Did you see anything of the man who brought it? Could you recognize

him?”

“There was very little light on the street from my window. I could only

see that he was well dressed, and he certainly wore an opera hat. A

little while after he had disappeared from sight, I heard a car drive

off in the direction he took on leaving our office, and I imagine it

was his.”

“Herr Grube, you will be so kind as to leave this letter in my hands.

You will be an important witness in one of the most notable criminal

prosecutions of recent years. I beg you, upon your honour, to preserve

absolute silence about this letter and everything connected with it.”

Grube, under the spell of the horror which had seized upon him, now

became more pliable, and grew as eager about the affair as he had

previously been obdurate. He handed over the document, exclaiming,

“There it is then! I am quite at your service. That is a very different

matter!”

“My car will take you back to your office again. Please leave word that

I am anxious to see the editor-in-chief as soon as he is able to attend

upon me.”

The assistant-editor withdrew.