The Man Without a Memory by Arthur W. Marchmont (good summer reads txt) 📖

back to us, listened to his concluding questions and suggestions, and then took him out of the room.

The physical examination followed. I stripped to the buff, and a very few minutes sufficed to satisfy them about my fitness. I was, of course, in the pink of condition and as hard as nails.

"You must have had military training," said one of them.

"That can't be so, so far as I know. I understand I've been travelling about the world for a long time."

"I'm sure of it," was the positive verdict. "Every muscle tells the tale too plainly for any one to be mistaken. Just stand over there; I want to look at your back;" and he placed me close to the wall, and stepped back some distance himself.

"No, perhaps not," he murmured, and just as I was chuckling at his blunder, he suddenly yelled at me in English, "'Shun!" with military abruptness. Instinctively, being for the instant quite off my guard, I brought my heels together and straightened up. He chuckled, and I could have cursed myself for an idiot in having given the show away.

The doctor who had trapped me couldn't contain his delight. "I knew I couldn't be mistaken. You can put your clothes on," he told me, rubbing his hands gleefully, and after another chortle to his colleague, he hurried off to report the result of his experiment.

I was mad at having made such a blithering ass of myself just when things had been going so well. The game was up, of course, and there was nothing for it but to face the music. It was now a toss up whether I should be packed off to the front or popped into prison, and it didn't need a Solomon to see that the odds strongly favoured the latter.

The Baron and the two doctors came back in about five minutes, and the man who had bowled me out was laughingly rubbing it in to the specialist.

"I can't imagine how it escaped you, Gorlitz," he said as they entered; and the specialist looked about as pleased as I felt.

"Try it again," he growled in a half-whisper.

"He may be prepared this time," was the reply in an undertone, but not low enough to prevent my hearing it. I couldn't get the hang of things for the moment; but when, after a few desultory questions, the doctor pretended to take some measurements and then turned me with my back to him again, I knew what was coming, and I thought I would do a little bit of pantomime of my own.

They spoke together in low tones, and in the middle of it the doctor yelled "'Shun!" at me once more. I started, hesitated and then came to attention, but not nearly so smartly as before.

"Just turn round," called the specialist. "Now, march across the room." I obeyed, and was halfway across when the doctor shouted "Halt!" I stopped instantly.

"There you are," exclaimed the doctor. The specialist nodded, told me to sit down, and plied me with all sorts of questions about the army, appearing rather pleased than otherwise when I failed to answer them.

A long pow-wow followed between the three doctors and was developing into a pretty hot wrangle whether my having obeyed the word of command was really a recurrence of memory or not, when the Baron intervened and I was sent back to his room with his subordinate.

"You have set them a difficult problem, Herr Lassen," he said to me when he joined me after some ten minutes; "and given me one also. But it will do no harm to postpone the decision about you for a few days, at any rate. You have no idea how you come to know the English words of command?"

I affected to think deeply. "Can I have been in the army there?" I asked, looking blankly at him.

He smiled and then nodded. "Yes, you are a deserter. Your report says that you joined it to obtain certain information."

"It's very odd, sir."

"Very," he replied a little drily. "It makes it a little difficult in regard to a suggestion Dr. Gorlitz threw out; he's the mental specialist, you know. He thinks it not improbable that if you were placed again in the surroundings immediately preceding the shock which deprived you of your memory, it would greatly facilitate its recovery. Perhaps your only chance of doing so. But you might not care to run such a risk. You should understand that I wish to help you in any way I can," he added kindly.

"I am very much obliged to you, sir. Of course it would be a risk, but my great wish is to get my memory back."

"Does that mean you would like to go back to England?"

I could scarcely believe my ears and tried to conceal my overwhelming delight under the cover of frowning consideration. "The risk wouldn't frighten me, sir."

"Very well. I'll see about it. That's about as far as we can get to-day; but there's one thing I should tell you. There is some one in Berlin who knows you and declares that your loss of memory is a mere pretence, and that you have assumed it because of some exceedingly sinister business in which you were involved a year or two ago."

I could smile at that sincerely. "Can you tell me his name?"

He paused a moment. "There will be no harm, if you keep it to yourself; I don't believe the story, but then I know the man too well. It is Count von Erstein."

"He's a scoundrel, I know that; but it may be the truth, of course."

"We won't discuss him," said the Baron, rising. "I only told you to put you on your guard because of the genuine interest I take in you;" and with that he shook hands and was sending me away, when I remembered my difficulty that morning about papers of identification. I explained it to him and he sent for von Welten and instructed him to do what was necessary.

I left the place feeling pretty much as any one would feel who had rubbed his back against a prison door and by the merest squeak escaped finding himself on the wrong side of the bars. The whole business baffled me. Knowing as I did so well the usual methods of German officialism, the Baron's treatment was incomprehensible; and rack my wits as I would, I could not hit on a clue to explain it.

And then the luck of it! Actually to be sent back to England with official credentials! I could have whooped for joy! But as it was already passed the time I was to lunch with von Erstein, I rushed back to the Falkenplatz, made sure of the little flat, and then cabbed it to von Erstein's address.

What a rotter the brute was, I reflected as I thought of the story he had already spread about me. He meant to make things hot for me and no mistake, and had lost no time in setting to work. And what a brick the old Count, to have given me that warning. If I had been going to stop in Berlin, I might have taken von Erstein's enmity seriously; but as it was I could afford to laugh at him, for a few days at the most would see both Nessa and me out of the country, if the luck only held.

I was so late in reaching the Gallenstrasse, where von Erstein had his sumptuous flat, that he had already begun lunch. "I'd given you up, Lassen," he said as I entered. "Thought something might have happened with old Gratz to detain you. He's a downy old bird. Sit there, will you. Everything all right?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" I knew what he meant.

He turned the question off and we talked about nothing in particular until lunch was over, except that every now and then he shot in a question which might have committed me if I had not been on my guard. But I had been through the mill so thoroughly that morning that the part I was playing had grown into my bones, so to speak.

"Now we can chat at our ease," he said as we settled into easy chairs. "Is it still your habit to smoke a cigarette before a cigar?" he asked, grinning, as he held the box toward me.

"Was that one of my habits, then?" I countered, declining the little trap.

"All right, you do it very well. Ought to be on the stage, on my word you ought," he said with a broader leer. "But now, let's get to grips. How do we two stand?"

"About what?"

"Don't fool about in that way. You know what I mean."

"I shall when you tell me."

"Do you want to have me for a friend or the other thing?"

"I told you yesterday I wasn't likely to quarrel with any one who has such influence as you have."

"And I told you that it would be a bad day's work for you if we did quarrel; and quarrel we shall if you try to beat about the bush, as you're doing now. I believe in plain talk; and you'd better bear that in mind, not only now but always."

"Then let me have some plain talk now."

"You shall," taking his cigar out and flicking off the ash. "I've only to utter a word or two and I can flick you out of my way as easily as I flicked that ash off. Mind that, too."

I laughed. "You have a pleasant way with you, von Erstein."

"I don't care a curse about pleasantness or unpleasantness. When I want a thing, I have it. And what I want now is that English girl at the von Reblings', and you'd better be careful not to get in my way about it."

"How am I likely to be in your way?"

"Because you're a relative of the von Reblings, my friend, and you're going to marry the fair Rosa, whom, by the way, I can tell you as an old hand you'll find a handful. But she likes the English girl and will try to influence you, and if I know her, as I certainly do, she'll succeed, if I don't stop it."

"Stop it? How?"

"By showing you on which side your bread has the butter. Now look here. I know a heap about you; quite enough to queer your pitch with the von Reblings and put an end to your engagement and lose you the coin on which you're counting. All this rot about a loss of memory is just——" and he waved his cigar in the air to emphasize his meaning.

"What do you know about me?"

"Oh, don't try that fool's game on me."

"But I should be intensely interested in the story. I'm itching to know all about myself," I persisted, seeing how this line provoked him.

"Where did you go from Göttingen, my young friend?" he asked with a meaning nod, as if the question would confound me.

"How the devil do I know?"

"You went to Hanover. You know that perfectly well."

"Did I? And do I? You're getting me regularly mixed, you know." I was delighted to see that he was fast losing his temper.

"You did. And when you were there you had a friend, who called himself Gossen; but was in reality a Frenchman, named Gaudet. Don't say you don't remember, because it will be a lie," he snarled.

"That's an ugly word, von Erstein."

"And the whole thing was an ugly business. He was a spy and wanted some secrets; you were able to find them out; and you were suddenly found to be in possession of a big sum of money. How did you get it?"

"Honestly, I hope," I answered with intentional flippancy.

"How did you get it? And how did you get the information, too? That's the question; and if you won't answer it, I can. But you'd better not force me to open my lips."

"I'm beginning to get awfully interested. Like a story, isn't it?" and I laughed.

"You'd better laugh