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

I turned to have a look at the drunken brute who had started the row, or rather the robbery, for that seemed to be the meaning of the affair. The blow had seemed hard enough to crack his skull; but when I examined him I saw that it had not hurt him seriously. I also discovered something which told me I had not appreciated the true purpose of the attack.

I recognized him at once. He was the fellow who had called on me that morning in the name of Rudolff.

He was able to get up and walk; shakily, it is true, for he was a good deal dazed, and I had to hold him up on the way to my rooms, which were close by. The stairs were a difficulty, but we got up somehow, and a drink of spirits and a rest soon brought him round sufficiently to talk.

"I suppose you were coming to warn me again, Rudolff, eh?" I said.

He stared stupidly at me.

"Don't try to fool me in that silly fashion, my friend. I know too much about you. So drop it, or you'll step out of this into the police station. You should choose companions who don't blab, you know."

That made him begin to sit up and take notice. "I've been drunk, haven't I?"

"No. Not too drunk to play the decoy, my man."

"Don't understand," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"All right. I haven't time to fool about with your sort. You can try that on the police;" and I rose and went to the telephone.

"Wait a bit," he cried hurriedly. "I'll try to remember things."

"Give me the nearest police station," I said into the 'phone, but without releasing the receiver.

That was enough for him. "Don't bring them here," he said with an oath. "I'll tell you all I know."

"I only want one thing. Who put you on to me? Tell me that and you can go."

He tried to lie and mentioned a name at random.

"You're only making a fool of yourself, Rudolff. Lies are no good to me. You came here this morning with a yarn which you could only have got from one man in Berlin, and I know all about it. You were in the Thiergarten this afternoon and pointed me out to you know whom I mean."

It proved a good shot and he squirmed uneasily, although trying a feeble sort of denial. "What's the use of lying?" I rapped sternly.

"I don't know what you mean," he muttered.

"We'll soon settle that."

Taking the precaution to lock the door I turned to the telephone again and asked for von Erstein's number; and after some preliminaries with some one I took to be his servant, von Erstein answered me.

"Who is it?" he asked sharply.

"Johann Lassen. Hope I haven't disturbed your packing."

"What do you want with me?"

"Nothing; I've had quite enough of you already; but there's a friend of yours here and he's in a bit of difficulty."

"What the devil are you driving at? Who is he?"

"The man you sent here to-day."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh come, that won't do. Anyhow he does, and that's enough for me." I tried to pop in the suggestion of a threat.

"What's his name?"

"You know that without my telling you; I only know what he called himself. You don't send men about the place on secret errands without knowing their names, do you?"

"Well, what does he call himself?"

"Rudolff; I don't know who he is now."

"I never heard of the man, and I've had enough of your tomfoolery."

"Just as you like. I can deal with him, of course." I heard him swear sulphurously.

"What does he want?" he growled after a pause.

"To keep out of gaol, chiefly, I fancy."

"Oh, blazes! Can't you speak plainly?"

"Yes. You see that second little practical joke you fixed up for me to-day has missed fire; he's had a crack on the head from one of your mutual friends, and I've got him here. After what he told me I rang you up to know what you'd like to do about it. As you and I are such pals, it didn't seem quite friendly to give him in charge without letting you have a chance to tell me your side. See?"

"I tell you I don't know anything about it;" angrily with an oath.

"No thoroughfare that way, my beloved."

There was no reply; he had apparently rung off. So I used the opportunity to impress friend Rudolff and lead him to understand that von Erstein had told me everything, and then hung up the receiver, paused a moment, and again pretended to call up the police station.

This was too much for the man. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"My friend tells me that he had nothing to do with it, knows nothing about you, and that I'd better hand you over to the police."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Count von Erstein."

"Then he's a liar," he cried furiously. "He sent me here this morning so that I should know you by sight, first for that business in the Thiergarten this afternoon and then for this affair now."

"Don't tell me such lies, you murderous brute. Why, not ten minutes ago you gave me another name. Von Erstein, indeed, my friend!"

"Friend! He's no friend of yours. He's got me under his thumb for another thing and drove me to do both jobs by threatening to split on me. I can't get into the hands of the police. If you'll let me go I'll tell you all I know about it."

I shook my head and played the unbeliever till he was nearly beside himself with fright, and then told him to write down the story. This wasn't to his liking at all, but a little gentle persuasion in the shape of another pretence, with the 'phone, set him to work.

I walked up and down smoking while he wrote, glancing every now and then over his shoulder to read the result. He was not a ready penman, but he got the main facts clear enough for my purpose.

His statement was practically what he had already told me, and he added some very useful details which would help to fix it on von Erstein. But in one respect it fell short of expectation. He knew no more about Anna Hilden than his employer had told him—that I had really ruined her and that she was looking for me.

Whether he was lying or not, there were no means of deciding, and it seemed better not to question him too directly. The whole affair had shaken him up a good deal, and when he laid down the pen with a sigh he begged for another drink.

I let him have it and he gulped it down at a draught. "What are you going to do with that?" he asked, pointing to the statement.

"That wasn't in the bargain, friend cutthroat; but I'll promise you one thing, as you've seen wisdom. If I have to use it, I'll see that no harm comes to you, provided that you're ready to speak to the truth of it."

He shook his head dismally over this, and while he was hesitating, there was a nervous knock at my outer door. It flashed into my thoughts that it might be Anna Hilden. I didn't want them to meet, so I shut the room door behind me as I went out.

It was a very wild shot indeed; for the moment I pulled back the latch, the door was pushed wide and von Erstein came swaggering in.

"Where's the fellow you called Rudolff?" he demanded truculently.

My first idea was to shove him out, but it struck me that an interview between the two men might have interesting results, so I went back to the sitting-room. "Your friend's still here," I said.

Rudolff wilted at the sight of his genial employer, and as they were now two to one, both scoundrels, and capable of any violence, it was best to take precautions. Thus while von Erstein was challenging the other man to say he knew him, I crossed to a small table drawer and put my revolver in my pocket, keeping my hand on it in case of necessity.

The instant Rudolff knew that I had tricked him out of the confession he was nearly as mad as von Erstein. He couldn't well have been madder.

"A bit late, eh, beloved?" I jeered. "Had to wait for a taxi? They are rather scarce just now."

"What has this man written?"

"Just a line or two about the weather and so on."

"Let me see it."

"He can tell you, of course."

"I have a right to see it."

"Naturally. You'll see it all right—some day. What he says about atmospheric and other kinds of pressure is——"

Oaths from the two interrupted the sentence.

"Give it up," from Rudolff, and "I want to see it now," from von Erstein, came almost in the same breath.

"It pains me to disappoint such a charming pair of friends, but——" I shook my head. "Can't be done, beloved; out of the question."

"We'll see about that;" and they exchanged glances.

"Don't make asses of yourselves. One of you has a cracked pate already, and the other's so podgy that half a punch would put him out of action; so you wouldn't have a dog's chance at what I see you're thinking about."

"What do you mean, Lassen? I'm only asking to see what this man has written about me," said von Erstein, trying to fool me with an appearance of calmness, while he took his handkerchief out of the pocket of his overcoat—a suspiciously bulky handkerchief which he handled very gingerly.

"You may as well lay that thing on the table, beloved. I'm too old for that game."

He tried to laugh and suddenly grabbed the handkerchief with his left hand to free the revolver it was concealing. He bungled over it, and before he succeeded I had him covered. "I told you to put it on the table. If you lift it so much as an inch, I'll put a bullet in your head," I cried.

What a coward he was! He went as white as a sheet, tossed the weapon on to the table, and put up his hands as a shield. "Don't, Lassen. Don't do anything like that," he stammered.

I laughed, picked up his revolver, and tossed mine across to him. "That's less dangerous for you, sweetheart; it's unloaded."

Still trembling, now with more mortification than fear, however, he dropped into a chair and strafed me with fine Teutonic hate.

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