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

I could check it. It was lucky that Rosa had reminded me of my forgotten face-ache, and I invented a violent paroxysm of pain, whipped out my handkerchief and hid my face in it, to cover up my confusion.

Was it possible that Nessa and I were in the same house, or had I gone clean out of my senses?

CHAPTER IV NESSA

It was some time before I allowed myself to recover from the little attack and felt equal to the task of resuming the conversation with Rosa. If the Miss Caldicott the child had mentioned was really Nessa—and it was difficult to think there would be two girls of that name shut up in Berlin at the same time—it was just the biggest stroke of luck I had ever had in my life.

Indeed, all the luck seemed to be coming my way; but I should have to be careful how I played the magnificent cards fate had placed in my hand. I must certainly have Rosa on my side; and that could probably be done by freeing her from the engagement. It couldn't be done at once, however; not until I had pretended to take time to consider.

I must also find out the relations between Rosa and Nessa; and must, if possible, manage not to have any one present when Nessa and I met for the first time. Not the easiest of jobs, probably; although my peculiar footing in the house might enable me to find a means. The risk was, of course, that in her amazement Nessa might give everything away.

"That was a sharp spasm and no mistake," I said when I lowered the handkerchief at last.

"Was it real, or just shamming to make us pity you?" asked Rosa suspiciously. "You were always good at shamming, you know."

"Was I? Oh well, I'm better, so it doesn't much matter."

"Did Lottchen hurt you, then? She's apt to be clumsy."

"She's rather a pretty child and doesn't look clumsy."

"She's the dearest little thing in the world, but it doesn't do to make too much of her. Every one spoils her because she's so pretty and looks so fragile. She isn't really delicate and can be no end of a romp, and is quite able to take her own part. She wants to go to school, and she'd have gone before if it hadn't been for the war and Nessa being here as her governess. You never saw anything like the way she loves Nessa."

I wasn't caught napping this time. "Nessa? And who's Nessa?" I asked with a frown of perplexity.

"Nessa Caldicott, an English girl who——"

"An English girl here, in this house, at such a time!" I exclaimed, lost in amazement.

"Yes, of course; in this house; and at such a time," she repeated, imitating my manner. "Have you any objection?"

"Of course not; but——" and I gestured to suggest anything.

"I wanted to talk to you about her. That's the one reason why I wasn't altogether sorry to hear you were in the Secret Service;" and then she told me that she and Nessa had been at school together, and how, when she found Nessa had had to leave her friends and could not get permission to go back to England, she had brought her home as Lottchen's governess. "She was in awful trouble, of course, and mother hated the idea of her coming to us; but I got my own way. That's about two months ago, and ever since we've been doing all we can to get her sent home."

This sent Rosa up many hundreds per cent. in my estimation. "I think it was awfully good of you; but why can't she go home?"

The question seemed to trouble her considerably. "If I tell you all about it, will you help us?"

"I don't suppose I can do anything, but I'll try."

"You may be able to find out the truth; and that will help, for we should know how to get to work. I think I know it, though, and I believe it's all the fault of a man who pesters her incessantly. He's a horrid beast, named Count von Erstein;" and she told me he was a wealthy Jew who had great influence with the Government; had tried and was still trying to get Nessa denounced as a spy and sent to one of the concentration camps; dogged her everywhere and set spies to watch her; had spread all manner of lying reports about her; and was intriguing in every possible way against her for his own infamous ends.

My blood boiled as I listened to all this, but I had to smother my rage sufficiently to assume just a conventional amount of indignation in keeping with Lassen's character. "An ugly story," I muttered.

"It doesn't seem to have roused you very much," she replied, her eyes flashing indignantly. "I should have thought it would have fired the blood of any ordinary man. It makes me feel that I could kill him; but then I'm only a woman."

It was clear that my manner was Lassenly enough, so I let it pass. "I'm curious to see the man."

"If he had his deserts, you'd see him in prison; but he's probably with Nessa and Lottchen now. He always hangs about near the house at this time, when they go for their walk. That was the meaning of the child's coming in just now. I generally go with them. Do you feel well enough to come out and see?"

After a little sham hesitation I agreed, and she went off to get ready, leaving me able to work off some of my rage alone. It was in all truth an ugly story, and, what was worse, threatened to make it very difficult to get Nessa away. No doubt it was abominably stupid of me, but until that moment I had never considered the practical means of getting her out of Berlin.

I had rushed off with the idea of finding out the truth about her in order to relieve her mother's anxiety, and somewhere at the back of my head was the idea that Jimmy's friend at the American Embassy would help me to do the rest.

But that was knocked on the head if this beast of a Jew had sufficient influence with his Government to block the way. And that he had considerable influence, Rosa's story left no doubt. She certainly could not get away openly, without permission from the authorities and a passport and all the rest of it; and it looked like a thousand to one chance against any such things being forthcoming.

That did not exhaust the resources of civilization, however, as the politicians are fond of saying; and at the worst we could try and make a bolt of it together, without any papers if necessary, but preferably with some in false names. So far as I was concerned I was ready to tramp it to the frontier on foot; but that wouldn't do for Nessa.

At any rate we must get her out of Berlin and away from this von Erstein's persecution. Nessa could gabble German quite as freely as I could; and once away from the capital, supplied with plenty of money as I was fortunately, we could try our luck and trust to fate.

"You've made me feel awfully strange about that fellow," I said to Rosa as we started from the house. "I suppose it means I'm angry. I feel I should like to kick the brute."

"I'm glad to hear it; but kicking won't be enough. What you've got to do is to find means to get Nessa away."

I shook my head doubtfully. "How are these things managed?"

"She must have a permit to travel; that will be difficult enough: and to cross the frontier there must be a passport, of course. That's where the Count stops everything. He has dinned it into the powers that be that she's a spy and wants to get away to carry her information to England. We nearly got one; but at the last moment the whole plan failed."

"Did Aunt Olga help, then?" I asked, hesitating how to speak of the Countess.

"No, mother wouldn't. It was—was a friend of mine, Herr Feldmann, if you wish to know," she said, with a slight tinge of colour, hesitating over the name and laughing self-consciously as I looked down at her and our eyes met.

"It appears to me that your English girl is lucky to have found such staunch friends, Rosa," I said as earnestly as I felt. "And between us we ought to be able to outwit this von Erstein."

"I wonder if you mean that," she replied, with a searching look.

"I think you'll find I do. They told me at Rotterdam that I had had a very near squeak of death; and whether it's that or something else, I don't seem to have any of the meannesses you associate with me. I am perfectly in earnest. Perhaps I've dropped the rest with my memory."

"I hope you have, Johann, and there's certainly a sincere look in your eyes there never used to be. Ah! There they are," she broke off, pointing a little distance ahead; and I saw Nessa and the child coming toward us, with the man in attendance.

We had turned into the Thiergarten and were in one of the larger side walks at the moment; the part where Nessa usually brought Lottchen, Rosa told me: and I had a good view of them before they saw us. Nessa had the child between her and von Erstein, and I was deeply concerned to notice how worn and troubled and harried she looked.

The man was talking to her over Lottchen's head and appeared to have no eyes for anybody or anything except her. He was about forty, I thought; the ruddy-faced type of Jew, clean-shaven, square of face, rather high cheekbones, a very un-Jewish nose, small eyes, with bags of sensuality under them, a somewhat heavy jowl, with little rolls of flesh under his chin and on his thick neck. Not by any means a bad-looking man and very smartly dressed in faultlessly cut clothes which, however, did not hide his tendency to paunchiness. An ugly customer to get across with, was my verdict.

I was more than a little bothered about Nessa meeting me for the first time in his presence, as it was extremely probable that she would give vent to her astonishment in a way that might start his suspicions, so I stepped out into full view while they were still a little distance away, hoping to prepare her.

But there was no trouble of the sort. Lottchen caught sight of us first and, breaking away, rushed up to me. I stopped with her, therefore, and Rosa went on to the other two; and to my intense satisfaction, she held von Erstein in talk while Nessa, glad no doubt of the relief, came to us.

It could not have happened more fortunately. Just before she reached us I managed to place the child so that she could not see Nessa, and then turned and raised my hat, giving her a clear view of my features.

"You!" she exclaimed, starting and turning as white as death and trembling so violently that for an instant I thought she was going to faint. But I did what a look would do to caution her and turned to the child.

"You must introduce me, Lottchen."

"This is my new Cousin Johann," she said a little shyly. And the slight interlude gave Nessa time to pull herself together sufficiently to return my bow.

It was a very formal bow, and the look in her eyes and the instinctive droop of the expressive mouth was much more suggestive of indignation than pleasure at seeing me. It was a great deal more like contempt or disgust; but by the time the others reached us she had entirely recovered her self-possession.

My introduction to von Erstein followed, and he displayed an amount of cordiality at making my acquaintance, which puzzled me at the moment. But