on the way to the futtenplatz i made up a little fairy tale to account for my visit to the jew, graun. i didn't like the job, and what rosa had told me about his relations with the police didn't make it any pleasanter.
a very little knowledge of german police ways was enough to render it quite credible. it was just the sort of low cunning which would chime with their methods. there were plenty of people, besides aliens, who were anxious to get out of berlin at such a time, and it would suit the authorities admirably to have this secret means of finding out who they were and acting accordingly.
rosa's description of the futtenplatz was well deserved: a squalid, dirty place, with mean shops of the poorest sort. the jew's second-hand clothes shop was one of the meanest and dirtiest, and graun himself fitted thoroughly into the picture.
when i entered he was bargaining with a man who wanted to sell him a coat, and while the transaction proceeded—while the old jew was beating down the price to the last pfennig, that is—i had ample time to observe him.
red-haired, with red tousled beard and whiskers, pronounced hebraic features, small suspicious eyes, and filthy from the top of his narrow forehead to the tip of his clawlike finger-nails, he was one of the most repulsive specimens one could wish to avoid.
"what do you want?" he asked in a high-pitched rasping voice, squinting at me, when his customer went out, cursing him for the smallness of the amount he had received for the coat.
i told him straight out. the remembrance of feldmann's tips was one reason, and my desire not to stop one unnecessary moment in such unsavoury surroundings was another.
he shook his head. "you've come to the wrong shop, my man. given up all that sort of thing long ago. too risky."
"all right; sorry to have troubled you. good-day," i replied casually, and turned to leave.
he let me get to the door and then called me back. "wait a moment. who sent you here?"
"no one in particular. it's pretty well known, isn't it? good-day."
"here, wait. come here; i know some one who might be able to do it for you."
i didn't go back. "it isn't of the least consequence," i said with an airy wave of the hand. "i told the man he'd better go to the police and just tell them how he lost his card."
"come in here a minute;" and he shuffled off to a door at the back of the shop.
i hesitated, took a couple of paces toward him, stopped and shook my head. "no. i don't want to have anything to do with it, if there's any risk attached to it, as you say."
this worked all right. "when i said that, i thought you wanted it for yourself," he said slily.
i burst out laughing and turned again as if to go away. "good-day, my friend. that's rich and no mistake."
"here, don't be in such a hurry," he said, coming a step toward me. "if your friend's in any trouble, i might——"
"what the devil do you mean by that?" i cried, and cursed him royally for the suggestion.
he came up and laid his filthy claw on my sleeve. i shook it off with another choice epithet or two. "come into my room a minute and we'll talk it over. don't lose your temper."
i allowed myself to be pacified: not too quickly, of course; and with a great show of reluctance allowed him to take me into his room, which was, if possible, filthier even than the shop and smelt vilely.
"now, tell me all about it. of course most of those who come to me are in trouble of some sort or other and i have to be careful. if the police knew anything, well——" and he gestured to indicate the trouble it would mean for him.
"all right, but don't try that rot with me. either you can sell me what i've asked for, or you can't. so out with it. i don't care which way it is; and this place of yours stinks so that i don't want to stop in it and be suffocated."
he leered as if this were rather a good joke or a compliment. "i might be able to manage it, but——"
i broke in with an impatient oath. "i don't want any 'might be.' can you or can't you? be quick about it, too. if you can, how much?" this was evidently the right line with him and he grinned appreciatively.
"that's the way to talk. shall we say 150 marks?"
"how much?" i cried with a regular spasm of astonishment. "say it again, man."
"a hundred and fifty marks."
i sat back and stared at him. "do you think i want to deal wholesale and set up in the business myself? i only want one, you infernal old humbug;" and i roared with laughter.
he was accustomed to being abused and joined in the laugh, combing his tousled red beard with his filthy fingers. "well, how much then?"
"oh, a couple of marks or so."
he threw up his hands, gesticulating violently, as if the offer was an insult, appeared to work himself into a furious rage, and fumed and fussed and stormed, until i got up. again he tested me; let me leave the room and reach the door of the shop, following with a mixture of lamentations and appeals to heaven to bear witness to my lunacy.
i did not so much as turn round, remembering feldmann's caution, and i was all but in the street, before he changed his tone, apparently satisfied that i was sincere.
"it's no use to part like this. come back and talk it over again." once more a similar pantomime was played; but this time i was much slower to give way. "it can't be done at the price. impossible. think of the risk i should——"
"then don't do it. i tell you if you mean there's any risk in the thing, i won't touch it with a ten-foot pole. i thought a few marks was all that would be necessary; but if you offered to give it me for nothing and there's any risk i wouldn't take it. get that into your head."
"do you think i give things away?"
"not i, seeing how you cling to the dirt on you."
this was also accepted as a joke and he wagged his head and winked. "it takes too much time to clean things; and time's money," he replied, with one of his repulsive leers. "but i like you. you say what you mean. i'll take a hundred marks from you."
"will you? you'll be cleverer than i take you for, if you do."
"but there's the——" he was going to repeat about the risk, but checked the word as bad business; and a long chaffering began in which he tried to squeeze me first to seventy-five marks, then to fifty, coming down by tens and fives to twenty-five.
he stuck at that point a long time; and lest he should think even that sum suspicious, i held out at the five marks to which i had increased my offer during the bargaining.
once more he let me all but leave the shop, and when he again called me back i refused to go and struck out a fresh line.
"i'll tell you why i've stopped so long as it is, graun," i said. "i've never met any one quite like you before, and you're a very interesting character. i do something at times in theatricals and you're worth studying; but i've had enough of you now. it's been worth a few marks to have such a chance as this, and, while i don't care two straws whether i get what brought me here or not, i'll give you five marks for the fun i've had," and to his consummate astonishment i put the money in his dirty palm. "if i were you, i'd spend it on soap or something that will get rid of some of this beastly stink."
"you give me this?" he cried in amazement.
"yes, give it you. good-day."
it was the turning point of the conference. he clawed hold of my arm. "you can come and study me any time you like at the same price," he said with a grin. "i don't mind how often. and look here, you shall have the card if you'll make it ten marks."
"another five, do you mean?"
"oh, no. oh, no. another ten," he cried greedily.
i shook my head at first and then smiled. "i tell you what i'll do. i'll give you the other ten, if you'll throw in another cursing and lamentation scene, like the last. five for that and five for the card. you do it so beautifully, graun; and it's all put on, i know."
he grinned, but shook his head. "it wasn't put on."
"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 amusement.
"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 snatching a hasty meal in the first decent place i came to, i hurried to the karlstrasse 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 lassen?" with mock emphasis on the name.
"i shan't be lassen 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 scrap 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 assistant 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 assistant 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 assistant'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 class. 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 passport; but we'll get as near the frontier as we can. osnabrück, 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 lassen?" 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 attitude.
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!"
