The Man Without a Memory by Arthur W. Marchmont (digital e reader .TXT) 📕

while you can," he rapped, swearing viciously.

"Of course you mean I sold the information to the Frenchman and that that accounts for my having that sudden money."

"I not only mean it, I can prove it. Prove it, do you understand that?"

I gave him another grin and shook my head. "Some one's been pulling your leg, von Erstein. The whole thing's just bosh."

"It's no good, Lassen. I've got you here;" and he held out his hand and clenched it. "Here! And no wriggling humbug about loss of memory will help you to get out."

"I must be an infernal blackguard, then."

"That's the truest thing you've said since you came. It's just what you are; and the von Reblings ought to know it."

"You haven't told me how I got that valuable information yet. I should like to know that."

"If you'll let that lost memory of yours wake up for a second, just long enough to remember the name of Anna Hilden, you'll know all about it without a word from me." His sneering suggestive tone clearly showed that this was one of his trump cards, and he fixed his eyes on me, keenly watching for the effect.

"But my memory won't oblige me by waking up, you see. Had she anything to do with it?"

"To the devil with all your pretended innocence! You know she had, and that you induced her to worm it out of the man she was to have married, if you hadn't come in the road; just as you're trying now with me," he cried, scowling at me threateningly. "But you've got a man to deal with this time, not a woman, and the wrong sort of man too."

I dropped the bantering tone and answered seriously. "Of course all you say may be the gospel truth, but I give you my word that I haven't the faintest recollection of anything you've mentioned."

He laughed scornfully. "That's a lie," he growled with an oath.

I had had more than enough and I got up. "If this weren't your own place, I'd cram that word down your throat; and the next time we meet, wherever it is, I'll do it," I told him.

He seemed to understand that I meant it, and a change came over his face. "I'll take that back," he muttered. "Sit down again."

I didn't sit down, but I stopped. Either he was as arrant a coward as such a brute was likely to be and I had scared him, or some thought had struck him which accounted for the change.

He let his cigar drop; made a to-do in finding it, pitching it away, and lighting another; and it was an easy guess that all this was to gain time. Then he sat thinking, fiddling nervously with a very singular ring he wore on his middle finger. He saw me looking at it and, no doubt to get a little more time to think, he spoke of it.

"You're looking at this," he said, holding up the hand. I nodded, and he drew it off and handed it me. "It's a puzzle ring I picked up in China," he explained, showing how it was really a little chain of rings which fitted very ingeniously to form a single ring.

I examined it and, still to gain time, he told me to try and put it together. I did try and failed, and when he had thought out his problem, he took it back and showed me the fitting.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper just now, Lassen," he said in a very different tone from his former angry one. "It's always a fool's game. But I did really believe you were shamming about your memory. What I told you about the Hanover business is quite true, however, and the fact that you don't remember it, wouldn't make an atom of difference with our people. But now, what about the English girl?"

I hesitated a second and then resumed my seat. "I'm willing to listen to you," I said; and he couldn't keep the satisfaction out of his fat, tell-tale face. He reckoned that he had frightened me, of course.

"What are you going to do about her?" was his next question.

"What you want to do is the point, man."

"She's a spy and ought to be interned."

"And why are you so keen about that? You said a little while back that you wanted her; how's the internment going to help you there?"

"She'd be sent to Krustadt and the Commandant—— Never mind; you can leave the rest to me. You won't know anything."

I couldn't trust myself to speak for a time, I was so furious at the suggestiveness of the leering brute's words and manner. But there was probably more to learn yet, so I choked down my rage and at last even forced myself to nod and smile meaningly. "And my part?" I asked.

"Two things; both easy enough. Old Gratz has shoved a spoke in the wheel so far, curse him, and as you're in the house you can tell him you know I'm right that she is a spy and you can give him proofs."

"Proofs?" I echoed, with a start.

"I said proofs, didn't I? I'll give you some papers and you can plant one or two on her and give the rest to him saying you've found them in her room or somewhere. He'll be obliged to order a search then, and that'll do the trick."

"Confound the thing!" I exclaimed, jumping up and wringing my fingers as if I'd burnt them with my cigar.

"Here, take another," he said, and by the time I had lit it, I had myself in hand again.

"But if she was caught red-handed like that, she might be shot, and that wouldn't help you much."

"You leave that to me," he replied with a leer and a wink. "The question is, are you going to help me?"

"I don't like it, von Erstein, and that's the truth," I said.

"I didn't ask you that."

"And if I do help you?"

He put his fat finger to his lips. "Mum about that Hanover business."

"And if I don't?"

He paused, squinting hard at me. "I think you will."

I affected to consider the proposal. "But why take this roundabout trouble to get her? If you want to marry her, why not ask her?"

That touched his Teutonic sense of humour and he burst into loud and evidently genuine laughter. "Why didn't you marry Anna Hilden? Because you could get her without, wasn't it? Same here, of course."

"It comes to this, then," I said after a pause. "You think you know that I played the traitor in that Hanover business in a way that renders me liable to be shot; but that you're willing to hush it up if I'll help to put Miss Caldicott into your power. That about it?"

"Put it how you like," he growled, not relishing the bald statement. "But you'd better toe the line, my friend, and at once. Now, what are you going to do?"

"I'll toe the line, von Erstein."

He chuckled. "I thought you'd see wisdom," he sneered.

"Not quite as you think, however. What I'm going to do is"—and I paused—"to give you forty-eight hours to clear out of Berlin; and if I find you here then, I'll not only tell the von Reblings the whole of your confounded scheme, but I'll tell Baron von Gratz as well. And I'm thundering glad you've put that card in my hands."

CHAPTER IX A BREAD RIOT

It would be difficult for any one to appear more absolutely dumbfounded than von Erstein when I delivered my ultimatum and got up.

That I had scared him, his chalk-white cheeks showed unmistakably, while the quiver of his lips, clenched hands, and the fierce light in his piggish little eyes testified to his rage. He jumped up instantly to stop my going.

"Don't go, Lassen, at all events in that way. Let's talk it over," he clamoured. "The thing can be explained and we can come to an understanding."

"You swine!" I growled. "Get out of the way or I shall forget I'm in your room and lay my hands on you."

He tried not to wince, but was too much of a cur. "Look here, I'm not going to utter a word about that Hanover business. I swear that," he said as I went to the door.

"You've done it already, you lying hypocrite. You know that; and so do I. I've heard of it, and I shall hear if you say any more. And by Heaven, if you dare to say another syllable about it, I'll—well, keep out of my way afterwards, that's all"; and I left him to judge for himself what I would do.

I had to go. I should have mauled the brute if I'd stopped. I was mad with fury; and I walked off, unable for the time to think of anything but his disgusting cowardice and bestiality. I'm no saint, and don't pretend to be one; but this brute's infernal plan to get Nessa into his power was more than flesh and blood could stand. I believe, anyway I hope, I should have felt just as hot if any other girl had been concerned.

I ramped about the streets, taking little notice where I went, and it was not until some of my fury had cooled that I began to consider what steps I ought to take. I was glad I had lost my temper and gone for him; but after a while it began to dawn on me that I had blundered badly. All I needed was to gain a few days' delay; and it would have been far more diplomatic if I had seemed to fall in with his plans and just made a few excuses to account for any inaction.

But one can't always be worrying about diplomacy; and anyhow the beggar was thoroughly scared. Probably he'd be just as much put to it to hit on a new offensive as I was to decide what to do next; and whatever happened I wasn't going to be sorry I'd let myself go. What I was sorry for was that I hadn't been able to "go" with my hands instead of only words.

It wouldn't do merely to twiddle my thumbs, however; and after a while it struck me that the best thing would be to get another interview with old Gratz and just tell him the whole pretty story. If it did no good, it would do no harm, and certainly it would prepare him for any other scheme by von Erstein to prove Nessa to be a spy.

At this point some one clapped me on the shoulder. "Hallo, Cousin Johann, whatever are you doing in this out-of-the-way place?"

It was Hans. "If it comes to that, what are you doing, young man?"

"There's a shindy on in the Untergasse, and I've been watching it. A lot of women kicking up a row about food, or something. It looked like getting warm, so I thought it time to go home."

"Let's go and look at it," I said directly. I had heard rumours in England about bread riots and rather liked the idea of seeing one for myself, and I recalled what the tailor had said about it.

The place was close at hand; and sure enough there was a big crowd and a noisy one, too. Quite a couple of hundred women with a sprinkling of men, and as much noise as at an Irish faction fight. We stood a minute or two at the corner of the street when Hans caught sight of a friend, and asking me to wait for him, ran off.

I observed that although there were police about, the tailor was right in saying they were not taking the usual steps to stop the row; and I noticed also that the crowd was growing in numbers and moving in my direction.

Then came the sound of smashing glass, with loud shouts from the women who clustered round the spot where the smash had been, and I went down the street far enough