The Man Without a Memory Part 32

I turned to his companion. "Now, get out, you. Do you hear?" for he hesitated, looking to his master for orders. "It'll be bad for that head of yours if I have to chuck you out. I'll give you one minute to clear." He was no stayer and slunk out in half the time; and I followed and shut the door after him.

When I got back to the room von Erstein was on his feet also ready to go. "Oh, don't hurry away, beloved; this is an excellent chance for a pretty little love scene. Mix yourself a drink, have a cigar, and be your own cheerful sprightly self."

The scowl which greeted this was a real gem.

"What a seraphic smile! No wonder that every one loves you so and worships the ground you tread on."

"Stop it," he growled with an oath.

"Oh, you naughty darling! Did'ums," and I chucked him coyly under his fat double chin. His spasm of rage at this almost overpowered his cowardice, and he must have been within an ace of apoplexy. The blood rushed in a crimson flood to his flabby face, he clenched his fists and trembled like an aspen with the strain.

"I'm going," he mumbled thickly at last.

"Of course you are, darling; but presently." I stood with my back against the door. "I can't spare you yet. Besides, you haven't thanked me. Isn't my sweetheart grateful to his Popsy-wopsy?" I chided in a sort of Mantalini manner.

"Oh, blazes! Let me go, will you?"

"But think what I've saved you from, beloved. Why, if it hadn't been for me by this time you'd be a murderer or a thief, or both. Imagine it! The torments your tender conscience would be suffering! A murderer!

My Albert!"

Another spasm of impotent rage followed, and this time, instead of cursing he groaned aloud and dropped into a chair with his hands to his head.

I locked the door then, putting the key in my pocket, took the cartridges out of his revolver, tossed it into his lap, and mixed myself a drink and lit a cigar. "Now we'll have our chat," I said, dropping the banter.

He looked up and, seeing the way to the door was free, jumped from his seat to escape; and began cursing again on finding it locked. "Are you going to stop that rot?"

"Yes, if you behave yourself; except for an occasional endearment, lest we forget how much we love one another."

"What have you got to say? Be quick about it, I want to go."

"Sit down and have a drink. It'll pull you together."

"Not here, thank you. I don't want to be poisoned."

"I didn't think of that. It's rather a good idea. I will poison you."

He must be punished for that insult. I went into my bedroom and came back with a pinch of salt in a screw of paper which I opened out before him. Then I poured out his drink, put the salt into it, stirred it carefully till it had dissolved, pushed the gla.s.s across the table, and placed a chair close to the spot. "Now sit down and drink that."

"I'll see you to the devil first," he cried, trying to bl.u.s.ter and turning as white as a sheet.

I promptly took him by the collar of his coat and forced him into the chair and ordered him to drain the gla.s.s. His panic was pitiful. He was such a blithering a.s.s that he never suspected I was only fooling; and was convinced I meant to kill him. The sweat of abject terror stood in beads on his forehead, he couldn't utter a word, and sat staring up at me like a paralyzed idiot.

"Drink it!" I thundered in his own bullying tones which made him jump and twitch convulsively. He made one feeble attempt to lift the gla.s.s, and then with a moan dropped back in his chair in a faint.

I was afraid at first that he was really dead; but his pulse was beating all right. It was probably just pretence; so I moved the gla.s.s out of his reach and left him to come round when he pleased. It was merely shamming, and when he thought I was far enough away, he made a grab to upset the gla.s.s.

"I think you're the biggest fool I ever met, von Erstein, but you've been punished enough for your little poison suggestion. Look here;" and I swallowed the "poison" myself. "Not enough salt even to alter the taste of it, man."

In a minute he was cursing quite as cheerfully as usual and looking just as amiable. "Well, can I go now?" he asked.

"As soon as you've answered one question. Who is Anna Hilden?"

"I don't know any more than I told you before."

"I don't mean the right one, but the mock heroine of the Thiergarten scene to-day."

"I don't know anything about her."

Taking out my card case in which I had put Rudolff's statement, I unfolded the paper and laid it on the table. "Rudolff says here----"

He tried to s.n.a.t.c.h the paper, but I whipped it up in time, leaving only the card case in his hand. "Rudolff says here that you sent him to me so that he should point me out to her this afternoon. Now then, who is she?"

"I don't know anything about her," he repeated doggedly.

"I'll help your memory. She admitted to me that it was a put-up job and that the child was neither hers nor mine. That enough for you?"

But he stuck to his denial and nothing I could say moved him. The poison farce had apparently convinced him that his life was safe and he met all my threats with the same dogged answer.

I had to give it up in the end. "Very well, then, I shall have to get the whole story out of her. The police will do it, if I can't; so that it's only a matter of a day or two. Do you still refuse to own up?"

"I tell you I know nothing about it. Wash your own dirty linen for yourself," he replied.

I unlocked the door and told him to go. His exit was very characteristic. He stepped very gingerly toward where I stood by the door, fearing I should strike him, paused when just a couple of yards away, then darted out quickly, opened the front door, shook his fist at me and snarled out a threat. "I'll make you pay a heavy price for all this, curse you," he cried and bolted down the stairs as I made a step after him.

Except that he had been thoroughly frightened and enraged to the point of collapse, the interview had yielded little satisfaction. It was not improbable, moreover, that it had been a blunder to warn him about Anna Hilden. As for his threats, they were just laughable; but he might be able to strengthen the woman's backbone and cause her to persist in the story she had acted.

That the whole business was faked, there was no doubt at all; and if she did persist, it would only be necessary to set inquiries about her on foot. It might be as well to do that before seeing her again, as it would be a big trump card to face her with some of her own life history.

There was something to go on in the shape of Rudolff's statement; but it didn't amount to much. In all probability von Erstein would see to it that the man was got out of the way; and the mere paper itself could not carry the least weight with a soul.

Reflection suggested one exception, however. Von Gratzen might take a different view of it, if I told him frankly the whole affair. He had urged me to go to him in any trouble; and if he was not a fraud, he could help me enormously.

He would certainly want to hear from me all about the inner meaning of the scene his wife and daughter had witnessed, and it would be best to see him as soon as possible. He hated von Erstein, moreover, and might be glad to find something against him.

The next morning there was a note from him asking me to see him at his office at eleven o'clock, as he had some important news for me. Not a mere official summons this time; and this was rather a good sign.

It was to be hoped that the "important news" had to do with my leaving Berlin. The delay was irksome. Things were happening which threatened to make it more and more difficult for me to disappear without causing more fuss than would be healthy for either Nessa or myself. It all tended to force one's hand; and I began to think seriously of resorting to the "third wheel" Nessa and I had discussed together.

Von Gratzen received me with all the usual cordiality, shook hands warmly, and immediately referred to the Thiergarten affair, taking the line which I had half expected.

"My wife and Nita told me all about it, and of course it settles one point satisfactorily. It places beyond doubt that you are really Johann La.s.sen. Nevertheless I could wish it had been established in a less dramatic and embarra.s.sing fashion for you."

"It was exceedingly unpleasant, sir."

"Tell me all about it."

I described it from my point of view; making much of my profound astonishment and my inability to say whether the story was true or not.

"Have you any reason to doubt it? Did you remember anything which enabled you, I mean?"