Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 7 – Clare · Library Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 7Chapter 7
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 7
Chapter 7
ClareEnglish
The house they entered lay on the border of the inner city, in one of the mean, sordid streets leading to Schwabing. Its outward appearance, like its neighbours’, showed an unimposing façade. It was one of those shops having lodgings above, and the sliding shutters over the shop were drawn to the ground. It was too dark to read the name, but Wenk noticed the number, that of his birth-year--’76.
They entered a dirty stairway in which hung a dusty globe, which gave an indifferent light to the changing population who inhabited such houses as these, and then ascended two flights of stairs. A heavy door opened before them, and in a corridor at the side a light shone out over the miserable staircase. The corridor ran alongside the staircase; it was completely empty: a cheap and shabby black and white drugget ran throughout its length, and its walls were covered with faded paper-hangings.
“This is lively,” said Cara, “but just wait a moment!”
Then a small door opened from the corridor and a light streamed forth into the gloomy darkness. They looked upon a swelter of luxury. There was a little foyer with cushions and curtains, cloakroom accommodation, little restaurant tables, etc. There was the odour of prepared foods and the popping of champagne corks. People they did not know were sitting there. The visitors laid aside hats and coats and went through into the restaurant.
Yes, there things looked different. On entry, the place recalled the promenade of a well-known Théâtre de Variétés in Paris. Through little peep-holes or from the boxes one could see a smooth surface gleaming with light. This was the gaming-table, and it was of immense size. In the middle there was a circular opening in which was placed a large revolving chair. It was the seat for the croupier. Around the table the places for the players were arranged like boxes. Every box--there were some single ones, some for two and some for four persons--lay shut off from the rest and in darkness, and all were furnished with comfortable seats. People could be entirely separated from each other by a curtain, and a grating, like those of the Parisian theatres, could be drawn at will. The players might gamble there as securely as if masked, and, without being recognized or even seen, could indulge their passion for the tables.
Two miniature rails led from each seat to the croupier, and upon these stood a little truck. This was to carry the stakes down and later bring the winnings back. The sum was made known by sliding numbers displayed on a board. The pressure of a button sent each vehicle to its destined spot.
On the dome above the table, in the circle formed by the boxes, were the petits chevaux in varied colours. The little brass horses had been carved by a Cubist, and painted in their various colours with highly glazed enamel. They were set in motion by a crank turned by the croupier. In the middle, beneath the horses, there hung a little searchlight which, lighted from below, reflected light upon the dome, and in this light they ran with the dome as a background. This was painted in the colours of the spectrum arranged alternately, so that there was always a dark horse against a light colour and a light one against a dark colour, followed by their shadows. This gave the effect of promiscuity which was intensified the faster they ran. The goal was formed by a thin strip of tiny electric lights let into the dome, and every box had an arrangement of mirrors by which its occupants could clearly recognize the winner.
Wenk and his companions took their places in a box for four, which seemed to have been reserved for them. Cara and Karstens sat in front, the two other men behind.
When the boxes were all filled, the croupier gathered his elegant evening dress about him, and slowly began to revolve in his seat, as if on a mechanical rotating disk, while he delivered the following oration:
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the ‘Go-ahead’ Institute. The ‘Go-ahead’ has in itself the roots of vigour and success. We live in times of change, and our undertaking is designed to suit all comers. Here you can play alone, or as a pair, or in company. You can play alone, because you can have a box for one person only, like the charming lady of whom I can see no more than the red heron’s feathers in her coiffure. If you think that for good luck two heads are better than one, you can seclude yourself from your fellows like yonder elegant cavalier and his lady; and if you choose to play in company you are equally invisible from my point of view. In the dome, ladies and gentlemen, you will find our game, the game of the house, I may venture to call it, although every other game is equally at your service. There you see the petits chevaux of the ‘Go-ahead’ Institute. One of the first artists of our day, whose work you are constantly encountering in exhibitions and periodicals, has designed them for the ‘Go-ahead,’ and placed them here, and we have united art with technique, the strongest product of the age. The reflecting apparatus allows everyone from any place whatsoever to see at once and quite distinctly whether his horse is in at the finish. Allow me to demonstrate to you, by a mere turn of the handle, the very artistic and effective play and counterplay which is developing in the dome. There was once a man who had no shadow, but that cannot be said of our petits chevaux. Notice, I beseech you, the extremely artistic effect produced when substance and shadow thus unite in a piece of work which in its resourcefulness and originality does the greatest credit to the artist of our house....”
He turned the crank, and horses and shadows chased each other with kaleidoscopic effect. It formed a pretty and a fanciful picture. Slowly the horses came to a standstill.
“I had staked on that one,” exclaimed a woman’s voice as the cream-coloured bay stopped beneath the goal, and in its head the eyes gleamed forth like stars. They were formed of small electric lamps.
The croupier said: “I will not detain you much longer from trying your luck, dear madam. I have only now to introduce to you the epoch-making novelty of the ‘Go-ahead’ Institute. What would you do, ladies and gentlemen” (here he raised his voice), “if the police were suddenly to intrude upon you and rob you of your money and your freedom on account of your forbidden game? You need have no anxiety on that score. We have hit upon an arrangement which might be called a garde-police. The ‘Go-ahead’ Institute may await the police quite calmly. They may be surrounded and inundated by the police. With a pressure of my little finger I can turn the whole police force of the city away from you and let them go ahead elsewhere. Look here!”
He raised his hand, then lowered it with affected impressiveness, pressing his forefinger down upon the black knob near him. A moment later the surface of the table was set in motion, and it began to sink. It moved rapidly and noiselessly, and the speaker sank down with it. The boxes remained stationary, but from the dome the little horses and the coloured circles descended--came past the boxes; the dome followed, and a few minutes later a quartette of nude twelve-year-old children were to be seen dancing, upon a new stage, to the strains of fiddles and harps, which began to resound from some invisible quarter. A body of men, dressed in the uniform of the city police, trooped into the boxes, exclaiming, “We were told they were gambling here! Where are the gamblers?”
Everybody in the boxes roared with laughter. The girls continued dancing, and the uniformed police threw off their disguise and appeared in evening dress, laughing. The floor began to move again, the girls still dancing, one of them making a gesture to a gentleman sitting alone, who sprang towards her, but failed to reach his vanishing charmer. The floor once more became the ceiling, the petits chevaux reappeared, and in the centre of the gaming-table sat the croupier once again.
“You see, ladies and gentlemen, we do give the police something for their pains--the nude girls! And if the case were really serious, they would soon have a scrap of clothing on. I have to announce that there is a change of programme every week....” He continued for some time further in this way.
“This is only an ordinary cinema,” said Wenk, turning to Karstens, and whispering, “the most ordinary kind of cinema. If the police were to come, they would discover the whole trick in ten minutes.”
Karstens merely shrugged his shoulders.
Wenk wondered what the aim of such an establishment could be, for it was bound to be discovered and closed within a week’s time, and the outlay must have been considerable.
Hull was much struck, having nothing with which to compare what he saw and heard there.
“Ravishing! enchanting!” said Cara from time to time. “We live in ingenious times, don’t we? We must come here often, mustn’t we, Eddie? Which are you going to stake on? I am choosing the black Arab. Black for me, please Eddie, because you are so fair!”
Karstens cast an amused glance at Wenk. A supper of the most varied and recherché dainties was provided. Things which seemed to have vanished in the depreciation of the German currency were seen--pâté de foie gras, fresh truffles, caviare, fieldfares.... In front of a pile of truffles and foie gras, inhaling its pleasant odour, Karstens said suddenly:
“Our mark to-day stands at seven in Switzerland, but it is seven centimes, and here things which we have forgotten we ever ordered are provided for us.”
“Here a mark is worth less than seven centimes,” said Wenk, downcast and depressed. Whither was it all tending? His heart yearned for help in his enterprise, and he had no appetite for dainties.
Cara trilled a popular ditty, and Hull, in spite of the influence which she exercised over him, and his enjoyment of unwonted dainties, began secretly to be somewhat ashamed. He resolved to send her a parting present on the morrow, and it should be the parure of Australian opals she so ardently desired, which a Russian princess, anxious to get on the stage by Cara’s help, was willing to sell. “This should end it all,” said Hull to himself. He was disenchanted, and yet at the same time melancholy. What would become of her? For himself, he almost thought he would prefer the cloister to....
Just then he savoured a delicious mouthful of truffle, and as he smacked his lips over it, Hull thought, “Well, there’s something to be said for this sort of thing, after all. I should not get any more aspic ... and I’ve not broken with her yet, anyhow!...”
Suddenly Wenk got up to go.
“Where are you off to?” cried Cara, excited in a moment.
Karstens turned to her at this instant, separating her from Wenk, who left the hall undisturbed. He took his overcoat quickly from the vestibule and was conducted downstairs. The concierge opened the door for him, looking first through the peep-hole into the street. Then he exclaimed in great excitement: “Sir, there is a policeman standing there!” He opened the door, however, and Wenk went out. The policeman saluted. Wenk saw the uniformed official smiling, and looking back, found the concierge smiling too. The “policeman” belonged to the “Go-ahead” Institute. If a real policeman were to enter the street, as the concierge hastily informed the departing guest, he would see that there was already someone on guard and move off.
Wenk soon reached the spot where he had ordered his chauffeur to wait. He was resolved to have this place closed, but he did not want the affair to get into the papers, and on his drive homeward he was considering how best to formulate the charge. If possible the place should not be described, but the cause should be given as that of disturbance of the peace, misleading of the public, swindling performances, or something of that kind. He worked the matter out fully, engaged in his conflict with the “Go-ahead” Institute, and while still in his car, in his character of prosecuting counsel, he conducted an indictment which through his skill and stratagem should eliminate this plague-spot from public life without folks perceiving what it actually was.
Before he slept, his thoughts, without any apparent connection to guide them, reverted to Hull, who stood suddenly revealed to him as typical of the young men of the age. Bound by a liaison with a vulgar, good-for-nothing girl, whose only talent was to exhibit herself on the stage; elegantly dressed, without being elegant; spending his restless evenings between gaming-houses, night-clubs, and the arms of a courtesan--this was Hull’s life. Yet if he had taken the right turn he might have put his intelligence and all his available energies into administering an estate or pursuing a well-ordered peaceful life as an official of some kind; he might have been the head of a happy household and the father of legitimate children.
Many such men there were, strong in body and mind, living merely on their nerves, dedicating to a life of the senses powers which would have made them successful in the walk of life for which they were destined. Hull and his kind, feeble and enervated, represented the spirit of the age. What would the dawn of such a midnight yield?
Wenk went to the telephone and gave the address of the new gaming-house. The official whose duty it was to watch over Herr Hull was to get in touch with him at once, but do no more than keep him in sight when he left the house.
In the middle of a deep sleep the telephone at Wenk’s bedside began ringing. It was just two hours since he had returned home, and he was wide awake at once. “Wenk speaking!” said he, and he felt certain in some subconscious region of his mind, which was in tune with his last waking thoughts, that the news awaiting him on the telephone was in some dread, mysterious fashion concerned with Hull.
“Wenk speaking!” he called again, and his whole body was trembling with excitement.
“Here, sir; the police sergeant on duty.”
“Be quick!” said Wenk, his imagination running riot. What was there to report?
The voice at the other end spoke hastily: “The gentleman named Edgar Hull, who was under police protection ... has been murdered this night. In the open street, too, about 2 a.m. Another gentleman, name of Karstens, has been seriously wounded. The constable who was detailed to watch over him is also wounded, and both have been taken to the hospital. A lady who was with these gentlemen was arrested at the order of the wounded man. I have ordered the body to be left lying exactly as it was found until you have seen it yourself. The Service car is on its way to your honour. Please ring off!”
“Ring off!” echoed Wenk’s voice agitatedly.
He hastened to dress, for the car was already to be heard throbbing outside. He went down the dark staircase, forgetting to turn a light on. Then, when he perceived the car in the street, his profile revealed the jaws drawn firmly together, in the necessity of meeting calmly the tragic circumstances in which he was involved, and entering into every detail of this deed of blood perpetrated in the darkness of the night, so that he might be enabled to act to the best advantage.
During the drive, something within him compelled him to take himself to task. “I had no business to tremble,” he thought, “when this news reached me. I must be prepared to face even my own death unflinchingly. I must school myself further. I must develop all my tastes and interests and use them in the service of my life’s goal; then only shall I be equal to my task....”
Hull’s body lay in the darkness. Four men in sombre clothing were silhouetted around him, and they stepped back as their chief descended from the car. Wenk ordered them--they were constables--to watch the entrances to the street and allow no one to approach the scene of the murder, which was in a gloomy street-turning behind the Wittelsbach Palace. Not a soul was to be seen in any of the houses.
One of the constables said that none of the public had been near the place since the occurrence.
It was now three o’clock in the morning. By the light of an electric torch Wenk gazed upon the corpse. There was a gaping wound from the neck down the back, and the body lay with its face to the earth. Thus the police had found Hull when their colleague, blinded with pepper and bleeding from a wound, whistled for help. The body lay motionless, curled up like the gnarled root of a tree. The blood which had flowed from its wounds shone like black marble under the searching light. Wenk was convulsed with horror at the mental images he sought to overcome. He tried to photograph the details of the scene upon his memory, getting the exact position of the corpse. He wrote down the number of the house, tried to ascertain whether all the doors and windows in the neighbourhood were closed, whether any footprints could be seen, or any objects connected with the crime found in the immediate vicinity, but nothing was to be discovered. Its perpetrators had escaped into the palace grounds, one of the policemen had told him, and at one bound they had disappeared. Wenk examined the walls; there, too, there was nothing to be learnt.
He sent a constable to fetch a car to remove the body, and ordered that nobody was to come into the street on any account. Those who tried to force their way in should be arrested, but people were to be treated with politeness, he said. He then drove to the hospital where the wounded men were lying.
He found Karstens unconscious, and the doctor informed him that he had had a severe wound in the back from a narrow and apparently four-edged dagger, and a blow from some blunt object had probably been aimed at his head. The constable had not been so severely handled, and his were mainly flesh-wounds. His shoulder and upper arm were bandaged, but he could scarcely open his eyes even yet.
He related his story thus:
“Just before 2 a.m. the deceased, with a lady and another gentleman, came out of the house which had been pointed out to me. In front of it a constable was standing, and that seemed odd, for I thought to myself, ‘Why is he standing there instead of being on his beat?’ He stood there for at least an hour; then I thought I would speak to him, but he said roughly, ‘What do you want? Go away,’ and came threateningly towards me. I was just going to show him my number-plate when the door opened, and although it was dark I could recognize Herr von Hull. The constable pushed me away, and as I did not want to be noticed I moved aside, but I saw that Herr von Hull had a lady and gentleman with him. They went off quickly in the direction of the Ludwigstrasse, and the policeman and I were about three houses away in the other direction. Then he turned to the house again, saying to me, ‘Now you had better be off!’ I didn’t bother any more about him, but followed, at some distance, the lady and the two gentlemen. They turned out of the Türkenstrasse into the Gabelsbergerstrasse and disappeared from my sight. I hurried after them, but could not see them anywhere. They could not have got any further than the Jägerstrasse. Suddenly I heard cries; they were shrill and then stifled. The war had taught me that that was how men in fear of death cry out. Before I could even see anybody I whistled for help, and ran to the street as hard as I could, drawing my revolver.
“I hadn’t gone far when I was suddenly seized from behind. My eyes smarted terribly, and I felt a thrust in my shoulder. I wanted to pull the trigger, but my revolver was no longer in my hand and my arm hung quite limp. Then I thought, ‘I had better do as our major used to advise us--fall down and lie as if I were dead.’ So I fell down and someone sat on me, and shoved something at me, holding my mouth. There may have been two of them; I can’t tell, for I closed my eyes. They must have rushed at me from a doorway, and I was half insensible by that time. What happened after that I do not distinctly remember, but I heard footsteps running, and I was lifted up. It was another constable, and I quickly told him what had happened and he ran on into the street. Then a second one came running up. ‘Police!’ I shouted to him. ‘Yes,’ he called back; ‘what is the matter?’ ‘Run round the corner, quick!’ I told him.
“I forced myself to rise, and then found I was not so badly wounded after all, though I couldn’t open my eyes. They had thrown pepper at them. I groped my way round the corner, but I could not see anything. It was the noise that guided me to the spot. I heard someone speaking, and a woman’s voice answering. ‘What is the matter?’ I said, and a voice answered, ‘He said we were to take the female into custody.’ ‘Who are you?’ I asked the woman, and she answered, ‘I am an actress, the friend of Herr Hull. What do you want with me?’ I said, ‘If the gentleman said so, arrest her!’ She protested, and said she wanted to speak to Dr. Wenk, the State agent, at once, but the constable said she could do that later. Then she tried to run away, and there was a good deal of confusion and bother, and finally the constable had to handcuff her, she was so defiant, and I heard her call out ‘George.’ So I told them to arrest her, and I don’t know what happened after that, for I fainted, and when I came to again I was in the ambulance. I am badly wounded. Will your honour please tell me the truth: am I going to die?”
Then the doctor laughed in his face.
“No, please, I want his honour to tell me. It’s the doctor’s job to tell people they are not going to die.”
“But, my good Voss, how can you imagine you are going to die? You have some flesh-wounds and some nasty bumps, but a man like you doesn’t die of those things!”
“Indeed, your honour, I have done my duty!” said the injured man. His voice began to falter; then the tension relaxed and he began to weep quietly and unrestrainedly. “I know ... no more.... I have ... done ... my duty!” he stammered.
“You don’t need to tell me that,” said Wenk reassuringly. “He who stakes his life upon it certainly does his duty, for no one can offer anything he values more! But now, Voss, I want you to promise me something, and shake hands upon it. You won’t tell anyone else what you have seen or gone through this night ... and I beg the same thing of you, doctor. A great deal depends upon it, for the public at large. I beg you to lay this very much to heart. It is not the pursuit of one crime, but of a generation of crime.”
From the constable who had been first on the spot Wenk learnt that he had seen several figures near the wall of the park, but darkness prevented his counting their number, nor could he describe them. He was stopped by one of the gentlemen, who tried to stand up and then clutched hold of him, saying two or three times over, “Arrest the woman--arrest the woman.”
“Then at last he fell back and let me go,” went on the man. “Then I could run a few steps and I saw those figures close to the wall going round the park, but when I reached it, there was no one there. They must have had accomplices on the other side of the wall. I wanted to go after them, but I couldn’t manage it; it was far too high to climb, so I came back to the spot.”
“And the woman?” asked Wenk. “What about her?”
“I had the impression....”
“Now, Stamm, I don’t want to hear your impressions--I only want to know what you saw with your eyes and heard with your ears. You will be scrupulously exact, won’t you?”
“Yes, indeed, your honour. When I came back, one of our men was holding the woman fast. I said to him, ‘Arrest her; the gentleman there said so. Arrest her at all costs! Hold her fast, don’t let her escape!’ We were all a bit excited, and she shouted out that she wanted to see Herr von Wenk, and no one was going to arrest her. She made a good deal of resistance, sir, and finally we had to tie her hands. There were only two of us, and we had to help the wounded and our own colleague. We did not know in the least what had happened, for we had only just....”
“We? Tell me only what you yourself have seen.”
“Then I began to try and find out what had happened. There was a man lying on the ground bathed in blood. He seemed to be dead, for he was quite still. The other was groaning. Then a third constable came up, and we sent him to telephone for the ambulance and make a report to the Criminal Division and let your honour know. That was what Voss had told us to do first of all.”
“What was the woman doing all this time?”
“The second of our men took her to the guard-room.”
“Don’t go on with your story, Stamm, till I have spoken to him. What is his name? Keep yourself in readiness to report again; do you hear? And remember, not a word of this outside the official circle--not even to your wife. Give me your word of honour!”
“Yes, indeed, sir. The other man’s name is Wasserschmidt.”
Wasserschmidt duly appeared.
“You arrested a woman to-night who was present when the two gentlemen were attacked,” said Wenk. “Why did you do that?”
“I did it because constable Stamm said that one of the gentlemen, before he became insensible, called out to him to do so, and my colleague Voss gave me the order too.”
At this moment the telephone rang in the bureau of the Criminal Investigation Department, where Wenk was conducting these inquiries.
“Who is speaking?” he asked.
“This is the night editor’s office of the Central News Agency. We have just been informed of a murder....”
“One moment, please,” said Wenk angrily. “Who gave you that information?”
“I can tell you that without betraying any editorial secrets, for it was given anonymously, so to speak. Our night-bell rang, and as I went to the window I saw a man going away. When I opened it and asked what was the matter, he called out, ‘Look in the letter-box!’ Then I went down and found a letter in the box.”
“Can you read me what was in the letter? The State agent for prosecutions is speaking!”
“Yes, certainly, sir, one moment. The letter runs: ‘Edgar Hull, Esquire, was attacked and murdered in the Jägerstrasse in the early hours of this morning. The criminals have escaped. It appears to have been an act of revenge, for the murdered man frequented gambling circles.’ That’s all there is.”
“Does anybody in the newspaper staff know about this letter?”
“No.”
“Can you bring this letter to me yourself immediately? I will send a Service car for you.”
“But, sir, that would be a very difficult matter. I am alone here, and I must complete the Press matter.”
“What is your name?”
“Grube.”
“Well, Herr Grube, there’s no difficulty in the matter, when I tell you very decidedly that your coming here is of the utmost importance, far and away more important than that to-morrow morning every Tom, Dick and Harry should be able to discuss such a piece of news while he eats his breakfast.”
“But my duty is ...” he began, but Wenk interrupted him.
“Don’t take it ill that my time won’t permit of my saying any more now, save that the police car is on its way to bring you here. The constable is furnished with the necessary authority. Arrange your Press matter so that the sheet can be printed without the information you have just given me about a murder. Au revoir, Herr Grube. Ring off, please.”
Wenk sent off the car immediately.
“Well, now, Wasserschmidt, to continue. The lady offered resistance. How did she do that?”
“She ran a few paces from me towards the wall of the Wittelsbach Palace, to which the criminals had hurried, and then called out, ‘George.’”
“You heard that yourself?”
“Yes, quite distinctly, and she pronounced the name ‘Georsh.’ And as she began to run towards the wall too, I did not wait any longer, but I tied her hands together.”
“And what did she do then?”
“Then she became quieter, and let us take her away. As we were going, she said again, ‘I shall certainly be able to speak to Herr von Wenk, shall I not?’ ‘Well, you will have to wait till after he has had his breakfast,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I could telephone to him?’ but I said that wasn’t very likely.”
“And then later? Where is the lady now?”
“Still at the guard-room. She spoke quite calmly and said, ‘You have made a very serious mistake, my good man; but I hope to be able to set you right with Herr Wenk, for, after all, you are only doing what you conceive to be your duty. I was with the gentleman who has been attacked, and the State Attorney was there too, but he went home a little earlier, or else he would have been in it as well.’ ‘Let us wait and see!’ was all I said to that.”
“Did you happen to tell her why you had arrested her?”
“No, not a word.”
“That’s right. Wait in the next room.”
Wenk interviewed others, and finally the assistant-editor arrived. He protested loudly against this high-handed action of the authorities, and said that his newspaper....
“If it is the duty of your newspaper to serve its readers up the latest scandal, whether it be a murder or the unlucky ending of a love-affair, merely because it is a scandal, in as hasty and disconnected a fashion as it was reported to you ... you would be right to protest. But you have no right to hinder the authorities whose duty it is to deal with infinitely more important matters so that you may satisfy fools with a thirst for gossip.”
“But,” stammered the editor, in an excited tone, “but you are trying to stifle the Press. We are not living under the old system, you know. The Republic will....”
“I have no time to bother about what the Republic will do. Be so good as to give me the letter you telephoned me about!”
“I am sorry,” said the editor, with a confident and self-satisfied air. “These are Press secrets.”
“Pardon my saying so, editor, but you really are very foolish. I respect any Press secrets which protect the interests of the community, but your refusal to give me this letter only injures them. Before I take it from you by force (an action which would lay you open to a penalty for resisting the law), I will tell you that this letter is the only piece of evidence we have at present of an unusually serious crime. Perhaps then you will become more reasonable, and not entrench yourself behind the plea of your professional duty, which, as I have already stated, I do recognize, though I place it far below the interests which I represent.”
Grube felt uncertain how to act. Finally he brought out the document, saying, “I deliver it under protest, and....”
“Did you see anything of the man who brought it? Could you recognize him?”
“There was very little light on the street from my window. I could only see that he was well dressed, and he certainly wore an opera hat. A little while after he had disappeared from sight, I heard a car drive off in the direction he took on leaving our office, and I imagine it was his.”
“Herr Grube, you will be so kind as to leave this letter in my hands. You will be an important witness in one of the most notable criminal prosecutions of recent years. I beg you, upon your honour, to preserve absolute silence about this letter and everything connected with it.”
Grube, under the spell of the horror which had seized upon him, now became more pliable, and grew as eager about the affair as he had previously been obdurate. He handed over the document, exclaiming, “There it is then! I am quite at your service. That is a very different matter!”
“My car will take you back to your office again. Please leave word that I am anxious to see the editor-in-chief as soon as he is able to attend upon me.”
