A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Part 6

The Count at last abandoned the search of the lost pin, and having pulled the front of his collar into a more normal position trusted to luck to keep it there. The table at which the three had originally sat had miraculously escaped upsetting, and on it lay the poor Gigerl, stretched at full length on its back, calm and smiling in the midst of the noise and confusion, like the corpse at an Irish wake after the whisky has begun to take effect.

The Count now thought it necessary to justify the unfortunate situation in which he found himself, in the judgment of the spectators.

"Gentlemen," he began, very earnestly and with a dignified gesture, "I feel it necessary to explain the truth of this--" But he was interrupted by the arrival of a policeman, who pushed his way through the crowd.

CHAPTER V.

"What is this row?" inquired the policeman in his official voice, as he marched into the room.

The man who was wrestling with Dumnoff was a German and a soldier. At the authoritative words he relaxed his hold and made an effort to free himself, a movement of which the Russian instantly took advantage by throwing his adversary heavily, upsetting another table and thereby bringing the confusion to its crisis. How far he would have gone if he had been left to himself is uncertain, for the sudden appearance of two more men in green coats, helmets and gold collars so emboldened the spectators of the fight that they advanced in a body just as Dumnoff threw himself upon the first policeman. The Russian's red face was wet with perspiration, his small eyes were gleaming ferociously and his thick hair hung in tangled locks over his forehead, producing with his fair beard the appearance of a wild animal's mane. But for the timely a.s.sistance of his colleagues, the representatives of the law, and, most likely the majority of the spectators would have found themselves in the street in an exceedingly short s.p.a.ce of time. But Dumnoff yielded to the inevitable; a couple of well-planted blows delivered by the rescuing party on the sides of his thick skull made him shake his head as a cat does when its nose is sprinkled with water, and the mujik reluctantly relinquished the struggle.

At the same time the porter who had claimed the doll came forward and touched his bare head with a military salute.

"What is your name?" asked the first policeman, anxious to get to business.

"Jacob Goggelmann, Dienstmann number 87, formerly private in the Fourth Artillery, lately messenger in the Thuringer Doll Manufactory."

"Very good," said the policeman, anxious to take the side of his countryman from the first, and certainly justified in doing so by the circ.u.mstances. "And what is your complaint?"

"That doll, there, on the table," said the porter, "was stolen from me on New Year's eve, and now that man"--he pointed to the Count, who stood stiffly looking on--"that man has got possession of it."

"And who stole it from you?" inquired the policeman with that acuteness in the art of cross-examination for which the police are in all countries so justly famous.

"Ja, Herr Wachtmeister, if I had known that--" suggested the porter.

"Of course, of course," interrupted the other. "That man stole the doll from you, you say?"

"Somebody stole it with my basket, as I stopped to drink a measure in the yard of the Hofbrauhaus, and I had to pay for it out of my caution money, and I lost my place into the bargain, and there lies the accursed thing."

The policeman, apparently quite satisfied with the porter's story, turned upon the Count with a bl.u.s.tering and overbearing manner.

"Now, then," he said, roughly, "give an account of yourself. Who are you and what are you doing here? But that is a foolish question; I know already that you are a Bohemian and a journeyman tinker."

"A Bohemian? And a journeyman tinker?" repeated the Count, almost speechless with anger for a moment. "I am neither," he added, endeavouring to control himself, and settling his refractory collar with one hand. "I am a Russian gentleman."

"A gentleman--and a Russian," said the policeman, slowly, as though putting no faith in the first statement and very little in the second. "I think I can provide you with a lodging for the night," he added, facetiously.

"Slip past me, jump out of the window and run!" whispered the Cossack in the Count's ear, in Russian.

"What are you saying in your infernal language?" asked the official.

"My friend advised me to run away," said the Count, coolly sitting down, as though he were master of the situation. "Unfortunately for me, I was not taught to use my legs in that way when I was a boy."

"I was," said the Cossack. "Good-evening, Master Policeman." He took his hat from the peg on the wall where it had hung undisturbed throughout the confusion, and bowing gravely to the man in uniform made as though he would go out of the room.

"So, so, not quite so fast, my friend," said the policeman, putting himself in the way. "Heigh! heigh! Stop him! Don't let him go," he bawled, a second later.

Schmidt had paused a minute, watching his opportunity, then, taking a quick step backwards, he had vaulted through the open window with the agility of a cat, and was flying down the empty street at the speed only attainable by that deceptive domestic animal when pressed for time and anxious for its own safety.

"Sobaka!" growled Domnoff, disgusted at his companion's defection.

"Either talk in a language that human beings can understand, or do not talk at all," said one of the two men who guarded him.

Seeing that pursuit was useless, the spokesman of the police turned to the Count, twice as bl.u.s.tering and terrible as before.

"This settles the question," he said. "To the police station you go, you and your bear-man of an accomplice. Potzbombardendonnerwetter! You Sappermentskerls! I will teach you to resist the police, to steal dolls and to jump out of windows! Now then, right about face--march!"

The Count did not stir from his chair. Dumnoff looked at him as though to ask instructions of a superior.

"If you can manage one of them, I can take these two," he said in Russian.

Suiting the action to the word, he suddenly bent down, slipped his arms round the legs of the two policemen, hurled them simultaneously head over heels and then charged the crowd, head downwards, upsetting every one who came in his way, and bursting into the street by sheer superior weight and impetus. An instant later, his shock head appeared at the window through which the Cossack had escaped.

"Come along!" he shouted to the Count, in his own language. "I have locked the street door and they cannot get out. Jump through the window."

"Go, my friend," answered the Count, calmly. "I will not run away."

"You had much better come," insisted Dumnoff, apparently indifferent to the noise of the crowd as it tried to force open the closed door, and shaking off two or three men who had made their way out into the street with him. He held the key in one hand, and his a.s.sailants had small chance of getting it away.

"You will not come?" he repeated. But the Count shook his head, within the room.

"Then I will not run away either," said Dumnoff, the good side of his dull nature showing itself at last. With the utmost indifference to consequences he returned to the door, unlocked it, and strode through the midst of the people, who made way readily enough before him, after their late painful experience of his manner of making way for himself.

"I have changed my mind," he said, in German, quietly placing himself between his late keepers, who were alternately rubbing themselves and brushing the dust off each other's clothes after their tumble.

In the astonished silence which succeeded Dumnoff's return, the Count's voice was heard again.

"I am both anxious and ready to explain everything, if you will do me the civility to listen," he said. "The doll is the property of Herr Fischelowitz, the well-known tobacconist--"

"We shall see presently what you have to say for yourself," interrupted the policeman. "We have had enough of these devilish fellows. Come, put them in handcuffs and off with them. And you three gentlemen," he added, turning to the three porters, "will have the goodness to accompany us to the station, in order to give your evidence."

"But my furniture and my beer saucers!" exclaimed the pallid host, suddenly remembering his losses. "Who is to pay for them?"

The Count answered the question for him.

"You, Master Host, who know us and have had our regular custom for years, but who have not dared to say a word in our defence throughout this disgraceful affair, you, I say, deserve to lose all that you have lost.

Nevertheless, I can a.s.sure you that I will myself pay for what has been broken."

The host was not much consoled by this magnanimous promise, which was received with jeers by the crowd. There was no time, however, to discuss the question. Dumnoff had quietly submitted his two huge fists to the handcuffs and a second pair was produced, to fit the Count. At this indignity he drew himself up proudly.

"Have I resisted the authority, or attempted to run away?" he inquired with flashing eyes.

The policeman had nothing to say to this very just question.

"Then I advise you to consider what you are doing. In spite of my appearance, which, I admit, is at present somewhat disorderly, I am a Russian n.o.bleman, as you will discover so soon as I am submitted to a properly conducted examination in the presence of your officers. I have not the least intention of running away, and if this doll was stolen, I was not connected in any way with the theft. Since I respect the authorities, I insist upon being respected by them, and if I am treated in a degrading manner in spite of my protests, there are those in Munich who will bring the case to proper notice in my own country. I am ready to accompany you quietly wherever you choose to show me the way."