The Man Without a Memory Part 2

Hoffnung crossed to the door with him and the two stood speaking together in low tones for a minute, giving me an opportunity to observe my visitor. He was rather a good-looking man of about thirty, well-dressed and smart, and I placed him as somebody's secretary.

Certainly a decent sort and not too quick-witted.

"First let me congratulate you on your marvellous escape, Herr La.s.sen,"

he said when the doctor had gone.

"It seems to have been touch and go; but----" and I gestured to suggest that I knew nothing about it.

"The doctor tells me he quite despaired at one time of saving your life. But he says you are quite fit to travel. Do you agree with that?"

"It's all the same to me. I feel all right."

"It is rather urgent that I should return to Berlin as soon as possible. Do you think you could manage the journey to-day?"

"I don't see why not. But--er--it's a bit awkward, you know. Are you sure I'm your man?"

He glanced at his watch and started. "It's just possible that we could catch the express, and we can talk in the train; that is, if you haven't many preparations to make."

"I haven't any. I've nothing but what I stand up in, and one place is as good as another to me unti----" and I sighed and gestured hopelessly.

"Then I should like to go."

"Can I go without any papers or anything?"

"With me, certainly. I have everything necessary, and will explain on the journey."

And go we did to my infinite satisfaction.

In the cab to the station he was silent and thoughtful, and as my one consuming desire was to get across the frontier before anything could happen, I didn't worry him with any questions. It was all clear sailing at the station. Whoever Hoffnung might be, there was no doubt about his having authority. He secured a special compartment, although the train was crowded, and did all possible for my comfort.

"That's the best of travelling officially," he said pleasantly as he settled himself in the seat opposite me, while the train ran out of the station. "Now, you asked me a question at the hospital which I did not answer--whether I'm sure you're La.s.sen. Frankly, I'm not; and the more I look at you the more I'm puzzled."

"It's a bit awkward. I don't wish to be somebody else."

"Do you feel fit to talk? The doctor warned me against worrying you; but there are things I should enormously like to know."

"You're not half so keen as I am," I told him truthfully. "If I am La.s.sen, what am I; where do I live; have I any friends anywhere; isn't there any one who knows me anywhere? It's such a devil of a mess."

"There's one thing certain, my friend, you're a German; and as for the rest you'll find plenty of people in Berlin who'll know you. The von Reblings, for instance. Which reminds me I have the Countess's letter;"

he opened his despatch case and handed me a sealed envelope.

But I had already told the doctors that I could not write and could not read handwriting, although I had fumbled out some large print. That had been one of the specialities of my peculiar aphasia. So I just smiled vacantly and shook my head. "Will you read it to me?" I asked.

He agreed after some little demur, and a very charming letter it was.

The Countess addressed me as "My dear Johann," wrote in the familiar thee and thou, said how anxious she and Rosa--especially Rosa, it seemed--had been about me; urged me to hurry to Berlin as soon as possible, where, of course, I should be the most welcome guest in the world, and signed herself "Your affectionate aunt, Olga von Rebling."

"Doesn't that remind you of anything?" asked Hoffnung.

"Not in the faintest. Who is Rosa?"

Instead of telling me, he smiled suggestively and I smiled back. "Did the Countess send you to fetch me?"

"Oh, no. I came officially. I'll tell you about that directly; but it is because of what she told us about you that I was sent. She received a letter from you from England saying that you were crossing in the _Burgen_, and when the newspapers reported the loss of the steamer and that you were the only survivor, she told me about it. I reported it at Headquarters, and--well, here I am in consequence."

"And you've never seen me, or La.s.sen, or whoever I am, before?"

"Never. I have seen a photograph of you, but it was taken some long time ago; and while you answer to the likeness in some respects, you certainly do not in others, although I can see that you may be La.s.sen, allowing for the difference of time."

"Well, anyway, these von Reblings will know, thank Heaven."

But he shook his head. "I'm not so sure. You see, it's a good many years since you were in Berlin. The family arrangement dates back many more years than that, moreover--since you were children."

"What family arrangement?"

"Your betrothal to Miss Rosa."

"The devil!" I exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me I'm engaged to marry this Rosa von Rebling?"

"Certainly I do, and a very charming girl she is, and very rich too,"

he replied, smiling unrestrainedly.

But it cost me some effort to smile in return. It was the very deuce of a mix up; there were no end of bothering complications in it, and I leant back in my seat to try and think it out. It was quite on the cards, after what he had said about my photograph, that even these people themselves might mistake me for La.s.sen; and if they did, I should be hampered at every turn in my search for Nessa.

"Is it really possible that you don't remember anything about it?" he asked after a long pause.

"Not a thing."

"The doctor hoped that the mention of them would stir your memory."

I shook my head hopelessly. "It may when I see them--if I'm really La.s.sen, that is. Phew! What a kettle of fish!"

We reached the frontier soon afterwards, and I breathed more freely as soon as I was on the right side of it. Whatever happened now, I could play at being a German. I recalled with immense satisfaction his confident a.s.sertion that whoever I might be I was certainly one of his countrymen; and I could gamble on it that when the von Reblings met me, my "case" would still continue to be interesting enough to secure my safety.

Hoffnung had begun to study some papers from his grip and presently looked across at me and put a surprising question. "Do you speak English?" he asked in my own tongue.

I had presence of mind enough to be instantly very American. "Gee, don't I, some."

"Then you've been in America?"

"Have I?" My practice with the Rotterdam people was coming in well.

"Oh, yes. You went from there to England," he replied, going back to his own language. "Can't you remember that?"

I shook my head and frowned.

"Nor anything you did in England?" Another mystified shake of the head.

"It's a pity. Don't you know that you sent a report from England of what you'd seen there?"

A little duet followed in which he asked me a series of questions, and I replied each time with a shake of the head. The subject matter of them all was the mention of persons, places, dockyards, ships and so on, which had obviously been embodied in the report La.s.sen had sent to Berlin. He referred to them in a casual tone and in a way which would not give anything away supposing I should turn out not to be La.s.sen.