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

where I found the enclosed just as I know why you left what I found there. You think to ruin me. I am not the man you believe me to be and can prove my innocence by means of which you can have no conception. Enough that I tell you I have sufficiently recovered my memory to protect myself against your devilish malice. The enclosed proves I am ready to cry a truce.—Johann Lassen."

What I felt as I read this under the keen piercing gaze he rivetted on me the whole time, no words can describe. "Well, my boy?" he asked.

"I—I'll memorize it, sir," I stammered to get time to think.

"Just read it out. Let me hear how it sounds."

Fortunately, or intentionally, I couldn't determine which, he put his hand before his face as I read it in none too firm a tone. "It'll do. Oh, yes. The recovery of your memory seems to explain the word 'means,' and he'll think you are only bluffing him. He'll never dream you've told me all about it; and, of course, that's what I intended. You understand I much prefer your seeing him; but if you can't, you can send that letter."

I began to breathe freely again. "I'll see him to-night, if possible," I replied.

"I'm sure you will. It's now all but seven. He generally goes to dinner at eight, and between now and then you ought to be able to catch him at his rooms. Mind, I depend on you."

"You may, sir."

"They ought to be ready for us now," he said; and as he rang his bell von Welten came in, bringing the ring, the replica and the photographs; and we all scrutinized them carefully.

The facsimile of the ring was absolutely perfect. It was either in wax or some harder material and had been gilded, and as it and the original lay side by side on the table it was impossible to distinguish the one from the other.

"Very good indeed. Clever work, in the time," said von Gratzen. "Of course he understands that the finished facsimile must be in gold and will take to pieces in the same way as the original."

"Oh, yes. He has a number of small moulds of the individual parts. Would you like to see them, sir?" replied von Welten.

"Not necessary at all. He knows his job. That'll do, von Welten. Leave the real thing with me;" and he picked it up and examined it with a gloating and almost satanic smile, as von Welten left the room. "At last!" he murmured under his breath.

Then he wrapped it up and handed it to me. "You see how I trust you, my boy. I know you won't fail me, too. And now you had better go. Just a last word. As soon as you've returned that to him disappear for a time. Leave Berlin and go, oh anywhere; the farther the better for the time; and don't on any account come to me again until I send for you."

Utterly mystified by all this, I ventured: "But can I go away without a permit?"

Another of his queer inscrutable smiles greeted this. "Perhaps it would be better; but you haven't any too much time to spare—if you're going to catch von Erstein," he added as an afterthought. He rang his bell and wrote furiously. "Get that stamped officially at once. As quick as you can," he told von Welten, who hurried away. "He'll give it you as you go out," he said to me, rising and gripping my hand. "And now, good-bye, my boy—for a time at any rate. You're a good lad, and whatever happens, if you do what I've asked, I'll always stand by you."

Von Welten met me with the permit as I left the room. "You're in luck to have got on the right side of the chief in this way," he said, as we shook hands.

Were they all living enigmas? was my thought as I left the building, for von Welten's manner was as veiled and significant as his chief's. Did von Gratzen know that I had taken the tickets? Had he worded the letter I was to write to von Erstein in order to tell me that he knew my lost memory was a fraud? Did that remark, "You haven't any too much time to spare," refer to my having to catch the mail? He had qualified it by saying something about seeing von Erstein; but that had seemed to be just an afterthought.

It was beyond me; and I was even more astounded when I read the paper which von Welten had given me. It was much more than a mere permit. It amounted to an official authority that I was travelling on business of State; was to go where I would and when; that all assistance was to be given to me; and any inquiries were to be telegraphed straight to von Gratzen.

I was indeed lucky, as von Welten had declared. He little guessed what luck it was! Or did he? Was it all intended to make my path to the frontier clear?

There was no time to puzzle about it then, however. I could write and ask for the reply to the riddle when Nessa and I were safely in Holland or home in England; what I had to do now was to get this business with von Erstein finished as quickly as possible.

I drove to his flat; but he was not there, and I could not learn where to look for him. I was rather glad of this. It would be much easier to write the letter arranged. I went then to the Karlstrasse to tell Nessa that she could travel in her own character.

Rosa was with her, and both were nervous at not having heard earlier how matters were going, for it was then more than a quarter past seven.

"I've been worrying awfully," said Nessa. "Is anything wrong?"

"Not a bit of it. Everything's gloriously right. I've got our tickets, and all you've to do is to be at the station."

"But what's happened?" exclaimed Rosa.

"I haven't time to tell you now. I'm sorry; but I have to rush back to my rooms and get something.—By Jove!" I broke off in a cold sweat as the meaning of von Gratzen's look at my suggestion about writing dawned on me. I had told him before that I could neither write nor read writing! I had even given him a specimen of my new pothook fist! Of course I must keep it up, and it might take me Heaven knew how long. "I must go this instant," I said, and shaking hands with Rosa I rushed away to my rooms and set to work at once.

It was a deuce of a business. Every letter had to be printed in clumsy fashion; my fingers were trembling under the stress of my impatience; I made blunders and had to begin all over again, and every lost minute was of vital importance.

If I hadn't given my word of honour to von Gratzen I'd have wrapped the beastly ring up, scribbled a word or two and have left it at that. It was on the table by the side of the paper as I wrote, and I had just started on the second edition absorbed in the work, when a hand was stretched over my shoulder and grabbed the ring.

It was von Erstein; I was never more glad to see any one in my life. I could have forgiven him everything for such a service.

"Very good of you to leave the door open, Lassen," he said, with a sneering laugh. "Just going to return it to me, eh? I thought I'd dropped it here last night."

There were still minutes enough left for me to put up a show of a struggle, and get in an explanation. So I grabbed hold of him, taking care that he should not get away and also that he kept possession of the ring.

"I was going to send it you, von Erstein. You can see I've begun the letter there."

He stooped to read it and was puzzled. "What the devil does that mean?" he growled.

"I'm willing to come to terms. We both know where I found it."

"How do I know where you put it?"

"Don't lie, man. You know very well that it was on your finger when you left here last night, and"—I paused for the sake of emphasis—"two people saw it there this morning."

This hit him hard, and he winced and drew a deep breath. "Rubbish!" he muttered.

"I've made sure about that. I've just come from your flat, remember," I said meaningly.

"Have you been spreading that lie about me?"

"Do you take me for an idiot to let any one want to ask where I found it?"

He was satisfied, and his relief showed itself in his immediate change of manner. "All right, we'll bury the hatchet if you like," he said with a very poor attempt to hoodwink me.

"You can go then;" and I moved to let him leave. I was anxious to get rid of him now, as it was time for me to be off to the station. I must have betrayed my impatience somehow, for he started, stared a moment, and sat down. "You're in a deuce of a hurry."

"Dinner time, and I'm hungry. Clear out."

"Nice room you've got here, Lassen," he answered, squinting round, and started again as his eyes fell on my suit case. "O-ho, that's the game, is it?" he chuckled. "Going to bolt? No good, my friend, no good at all."

His fat insolent chuckle roused the devil in me. "You'd better drop that tone with me, von Erstein, and not interfere with my movements."

"Shall we go and dine together?" he sneered. "It'll be safer, for there are a few inquisitive friends of mine waiting outside."

I had noticed one or two men hanging round the building as I entered, and it wouldn't do to be shadowed. So I went out, locked the front door and put the key in my pocket.

"What's that for?" he growled uneasily.

"So that our chat shan't be disturbed. I've sampled your friends already, remember," I said drily.

"Let me go," he cried in a dickens of a stew.

"You wanted to stop, and stop you shall."

To my intense joy he came for me and thus saved me from the unpleasant job of knocking him out in cold blood. I did it quite satisfactorily, and as he fell he struck his head against the corner of a writing desk and saved me the trouble of hitting him again.

Then I collared my suit case, clambered out of the bathroom window down by the fire escape, and got away by a passage into a side street. A single glance satisfied me that none of his "friends" saw me, and I rushed off to the station.

I reached it with only a few minutes in hand, and Nessa was waiting for me in the door of the waiting-room.

"I was afraid you'd be late and that something had happened," she said nervously.

"It's all right. We've plenty of time. Don't be nervy and not too friendly yet. There may be eyes about. We'll find a carriage at once."

It was all right enough to tell her not to be nervy, but I was on pins and needles, wondering if my theft of the tickets had been discovered, whether at the last moment we should be stopped, and a hundred other wonderings.

My eyes were all over the place as we walked to the train; and to my infinite dismay I caught sight of the old Jew planted close to the barrier through which we had to pass. That was not the worst, moreover, by any means. He was talking to a man who had policeman written all over him.

And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, on the platform just beyond von Welten was strolling up and down smoking.

CHAPTER XXI OFF!

The sight of the old Jew, his police companion, and von Welten