The Man Without a Memory Part 37

"You're a dirty, stinking, money-grabbing Jew, Graun," I cried, with every appearance of fierce earnestness.

He seemed to take it as meant, and he did repeat the cursing scene with the utmost energy and wild gesticulation, to my intense amus.e.m.e.nt.

"It wasn't quite so good as the first, Graun, but it's worth the money all the same. Here you are; get me the card. I believe you're quite a decent sort really and just put on this manner for business."

More leers as he shuffled off, and in a minute or two later I left with an identification card in the name of "Johann Liebe, mechanic."

Whether he would tell the police of my visit, I neither knew nor cared.

He was obviously satisfied that things were pretty much as I had pretended, and the little hint that I might wish to "study" him again was quite likely to make him hold his tongue.

I had all that I needed; the way to leave was now open; and in a very few hours Nessa and I would have seen the last of Berlin for many a day.

The interview had taken longer than I had expected, however, and after s.n.a.t.c.hing a hasty meal in the first decent place I came to, I hurried to the Karlstra.s.se to fix up the final arrangements for our departure.

Nessa was as jubilant as I at the news of my success. "Rosa told me all you said and where you'd gone and that we were to go to-night. Oh, isn't it splendid!" she exclaimed.

"You'll be ready?"

"Oh, no. I shall take care to miss the train, of course. Make a point of it," she cried, her eyes as bright as diamonds. "I shall have a cab, tell every one I'm going to England and---- How can you ask such a silly question, Jack?"

"Steady. Not that name till we're in Holland anyhow."

"Do you expect me to be steady at such a time, Herr La.s.sen?" with mock emphasis on the name.

"I shan't be La.s.sen after this, mind. This thing I've got in my pocket christens me Johann Liebe."

She laughed. "Let me look at it. I declare I could almost kiss it," she exclaimed, when I showed it to her. "And now we'll be sensible. What are my marching orders?"

"Flying orders, we call them. Well, I still hope we shall travel in state under Government patronage, and----"

"I hope not," she broke in. "I'd much rather go on the 'third wheel,'

you know. It would be glorious fun. I don't want to have to sc.r.a.p my disguise and have had all my trouble for nothing."

"That's all right; but the other wheel's both safer and quicker, thank you. All the same you'd better bring the props along in case things go wrong. One never knows. Do you want to bother with any luggage?"

"A comb and a toothbrush, a few hairpins and a pair of scissors. That too much?"

"Rather not; but why scissors?"

"You don't want your a.s.sistant to have long hair, do you? And it might be injudicious to worry a barber."

We both laughed. "I never thought of that. By Jove, it would be a beastly shame to have to cut off that lovely wig of yours." She had most beautiful hair of a rich dark auburn.

"A thousand times better than an internment camp," she replied, sobered by the mere thought of it. But only for the moment; she was too wildly excited at the prospect of going home for anything to damp her spirits.

"Why, I'd do it only to play the part of Hans Bulich for an hour."

"Who's Hans Bulich?"

"Your a.s.sistant that hopes to be, of course. You're surely not going to begin by forgetting essentials?"

"I had forgotten for the moment."

"Well, don't forget again. Shall I spell it for you?"

"Don't give me any of your lip, 'Hans,'" I retorted smartly.

"All right, matey, keep your hand on the brake," she replied in her excellent a.s.sistant's tone; and worked in a number of motor parts to show she had been swotting them up as I had suggested.

"You'll do, boy," I said, laughing. "And now let's remember this isn't going to be all mere chaff," and I told her my plan. She was to be at the station a quarter of an hour before the train started and look out for me in the waiting-room. "If things go right with von Gratzen, that'll be the ladies' room; if not, then the third cla.s.s. I'll manage to 'phone you in time for the necessary make-up. As for the rest, it's up to us to manage the best we can."

"If we have to go disguised, are you going to risk the mail train then?"

"There won't be any risk to speak of now that I've got this;" tapping my pocket. "Of course we can't go all the way because I haven't a pa.s.sport; but we'll get as near the frontier as we can. Osnabruck, probably; but I'll have the tickets all right. And now I must be off."

"I wish my silly heart wouldn't beat like a racing 40 h.p., but I'll have it in good order when we meet again."

"It's a good thing I don't make it beat, eh?"

"Hands off, matey," replied "Hans," but with a very un-boylike blush.

"You must drop that habit, young 'un. You've got to think about other 40 h.p.'s, you know;" and with that I went, little thinking of all that was to happen before we met again.

I hurried to my rooms to put the final touches to my preparations; pack the one or two trifles I needed for the journey; make sure that no inquisitive eyes had discovered my hidden suit case; and have everything ready for instant departure.

This did not take more than a few minutes, and I had just finished and was replacing the suit case in its hiding place, when the telephone rang.

"Hullo?" I asked, wondering who could want to call me up.

"Herr La.s.sen?" came in a woman's voice I did not know.

"Yes. What is it?"

"I'm to tell you Anna Hilden wants to see you at once."

"Who is it speaking?" There was no answer, and none again when I repeated the question. Who could it be? And the meaning of it? It certainly wasn't Anna's voice, although the 'phone has a trick at times of changing the voice considerably.

It was still nearly an hour before the time she had fixed for me to go to her, and I couldn't understand how she could have got hold of my telephone number. But she wouldn't have telephoned if it hadn't been urgent. It looked as if she had made up her mind at last to admit everything, and the sooner I had the confession the better chance there was of catching von Gratzen at his office. So I hurried off, was lucky enough to get a taxi, and reached her place within ten minutes of getting her message.

To my surprise the door of her flat was ajar. Not perhaps an unusual thing, considering that she was a somewhat casual person. I pressed the electric bell and heard it ring all right; but she didn't come to the door. Probably slipped out for something, I concluded; and after a second ring, I pushed the door wide and went in.

She was not in the sitting-room, and I was just dropping into a chair to wait for her, when a glance through the open door of the adjoining bedroom brought my heart up into my mouth, as if I'd come on an air pocket a thousand feet deep.

She was lying asprawl on the bed in a most unnatural att.i.tude.

In a second I was in the room and knew the truth.

She was dead, and the marks on her throat could only mean one thing.

"Murder!"