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

"You'd better tell me everything before you go, Anna," I said. Knowing that she had been driven into the deception by von Erstein, I pitied her sincerely. She was like a wild thing in her panic, shaking her head and flourishing her arms hysterically.

"No, no. To-morrow."

"It may be too late then. I have great influence with the Baron and can put the matter to him in a way to help you. It will be useless to try that to-morrow."

"Not now. Not yet. I can't. I can't. Let me go. Let me go, I say!"

I persisted, however; and at length she consented to my seeing her again that afternoon at five o'clock. I had to be content with that, and as soon as we reached the street she hurried off.

She was going to von Erstein of course, and I would have given something to be able to hear what passed. She was in deadly fear of him. Her manner had shown that; and considering what the man was, her news would probably give him an equally bad attack of nerves. He would not relish von Gratzen's intervention any better than she had.

On the whole the interview had turned out well enough. It would have been better if I had been able to drag the truth out of her at once, of course; but I was confident that I should get it all in the afternoon. That would still give me time to carry the news to von Gratzen and satisfy him that the obstacle to my leaving was removed.

The "third wheel" must none the less be in working order. Nessa must be prepared to leave, and I went to the Karlstrasse to see her. She was out with Lottchen, however, and I only saw Rosa, who was delighted to hear that von Gratzen had arranged for us to leave.

"It's very lucky, too, because Oscar has left Berlin for a day or two without having been able to do anything about the other scheme. You won't need it now, of course."

"I wish I was sure; but I'm not. Von Gratzen may still raise some objection; things are so mixed up. But I mean to go to-night in any event, with or without his permit. Rotten luck that Feldmann's away."

"He was afraid you might do something like that, so he gave me the name of a man who can do what you want, but I wasn't to tell you about it unless it was absolutely necessary."

"It is necessary, as you can see for yourself. Who's the man and what is he? I'll go to him straight off."

"David Graun is the name; he lives at 250, Futtenplatz. He's a Jew; a very shady character, and Oscar said you'd have to be awfully careful how you handled him."

"Where's the Futtenplatz?"

"It's in a low quarter across the river;" and she told me how to find it. "Oscar says he bears the worst of characters and does all sorts of shady things under the cloak of a second-hand clothes' dealer."

"He's sure that the man can get me what I want?"

"Oh yes; positive, if you handle him right; but you must be awfully cautious. He'll ask much more at first than he expects."

"He's a Jew, of course."

"It isn't only that. It's his way of testing any one who goes to him. If you agree to pay it, you won't get anything out of him except promises. Oscar said I'd better tell you this to put you on your guard; and you mustn't let him think it's for yourself under any circumstances."

"Do you know how much I ought to pay him?"

"Only a few marks, ten or fifteen at the outside. He'll probably ask a hundred or even more."

"I understand. But it's odd that Feldmann should know all this about him."

She smiled. "That's what I thought, and Oscar said I might tell you the real reason. The fact is this Graun works with the police. He got into trouble once and they made things easy for him on his promise to act as their spy. There's a lot of this false identification card business done, and he reports every transaction to them, and they are able to watch all the people who go to him. When any one is wanted, they give him a description, and he just keeps the man waiting while he communicates with them."

"That's cheerful. He'll tell them about me, then."

"Oscar says you needn't worry about it. So long as any one is not known to be an alien or a criminal, nothing happens; but you're to be careful to get the things at once."

"I don't quite see why."

"I didn't quite understand it, either. Oscar only told me at the last minute just as he was hurrying away. I fancy he said something about a second visit being risky, lest the man should have one of the police there to have a look at you."

"I'll be off then. Tell Nessa I'll see her as soon as possible and tell her everything."

"Oh, I do hope you'll get away safely. If the Baron lets you have the permit and tickets, I'll never say another word against him as long as I live," she declared as we shook hands.

"It will be all right one way or the other."

"Yes; but if you could really travel by the mail a few hours would end everything. I shall be so anxious."

"Of course your mother mustn't know anything about Nessa leaving."

"She's in bed, after yesterday's upset. So that will be all right."

"Not really ill?"

"Oh, no; only a bad headache. Nessa and I are booked for a concert this evening, and I shall tell the servants not to sit up for us, so that she won't be missed till to-morrow morning; and by that time you two ought to be in Holland;" and with that I set off to interview the tricky old Jew in the Futtenplatz.

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