The Man Without a Memory, Arthur W. Marchmont [best business books of all time .txt] 📗

across the intervening field, and as we reached the other side of it, the man at the gate called to us impatiently to hurry.

But Nessa stopped. "I've forgotten, Jack," she whispered. "I must have that money after all."

I had it ready, thrust it into her hand, and helped her over the field gate. In her agitation she fell and dropped the notes. It was as dark as pitch on the ground at that spot and I had to grope with my hands to find them.

The man called to me urgently to come at once, and I had just found them when we heard the sound of a horse galloping in our direction.

"Back to the wood," growled the man almost fiercely. "If the captain noses you, you'll be shot."

I lifted Nessa over the gate and we darted back to cover, as the officer rode up. We waited for some breathless anxious minutes for him to go, hoping that the signal could be repeated.

But he did not go; and soon afterwards the guard was changed.

The chance was gone and there was nothing for it but to return to the car.

The failure was bitterly disappointing, but Nessa was glad, and laughed. "Here's the money, Jack," she said as we left the wood.

I pocketed it in silence.

"I suppose you're awfully angry and disappointed and all that, but I'm not. The only thing I regret is that I was persuaded to go."

"I'm not angry about it. It's a great pity; but the only thing to do is to wait for another opportunity. I dare say Fischer can manage it."

"You needn't look for one, if you mean me to go alone. I won't do it. You'll never get me to consent again; and you said I was to settle it, remember."

"I remember," I replied.

"I'm absolutely determined," she declared; but something was to happen that night which shook that determination to ruins.

Fischer expressed great surprise at seeing her; but I explained that at the last moment the money had been lost and that the officer had come back in time to prevent Nessa's escape.

The car was now loaded with some of the spoils from the wagon and Nessa had to ride in front with us. We made a quick run back to the town, where I helped in the unloading, and then with Nessa took the car to the place where I was to overhaul it in the morning.

"I feel a thousand times more light-hearted, Jack," she said slipping her hand in my arm as we walked back to Fischer's shop.

"That's as it should be. I was rather bearish over it, I'm afraid; but it was such a chance."

"You won't ask me again to—— Good heavens, look, Jack, look!" she broke off, her voice shaken with agitation as she clutched my arm convulsively and pointed to a small poster outside the police station.

She might well be agitated. The poster was headed:

MURDER
1,000 Marks Reward

The murder was that of Anna Hilden and the reward was for my capture.

Two portraits were in the middle. One an excellent reproduction of Nessa with the words: "Nessa Caldicott, Englishwoman," beneath it; the other a villainous splash drawing: "Johann Lassen, German"; who were "known to have left Berlin together on the night of the 23rd in the train which had been wrecked outside Osnabrück."

CHAPTER XXVII FARMER GLOCKEN AGAIN

This "Hue and Cry" poster alarmed Nessa intensely. Her fears were all on my account, however; and so far as concerned herself, she did not even then seem to regret that her chance to cross the frontier had been missed.

As we hurried to Fischer's I tried to reassure her that the trouble was not so serious as it looked at first blush; for the reason that the photograph of her was so good that no one would recognize her in her present make-up, while mine was execrable enough to amount to a positive disguise. But this did not allay her agitation; and after we reached the house, there was no opportunity for further discussion.

We both realized that the consequences might be very serious; and after she had gone to bed, I sat racking my wits over the perplexing problem. It was either von Erstein's doing or von Gratzen's; and in the end I put it down to von Erstein, whose influence was quite sufficient to enable him to stir up the police in this manner.

For me there was only the risk of arrest and trial for the murder; hugely unpleasant, of course, but not dangerous, because von Gratzen knew who had killed the woman and had the proofs. It was very different for Nessa, however, although she had, of course, nothing to fear in connection with the murder charge. But she would certainly be kept in the country; and Heaven alone knew what the consequences would be and what price she might have to pay for her fatal hesitation at the frontier that night.

I had no chance of speaking to her about it until about noon the following day when Fischer sent her with some lunch for me to the shed where I had put his car into shape again. As the "staff"—the gawky lad and the decrepit old man—were present, it was difficult to say much to her, but I managed at intervals to let her know what I thought.

To my concern, however, she was determined to stay in the country. Instead of regretting her refusal to go, she appeared to glory in it. If there was to be trouble for me, she was resolved to share it, declaring that she could help me by confessing her part.

I was still doing what I could to shake this determination and show her the fallacy of it, when there was another unpleasant surprise.

Fischer arrived bringing the farmer Glocken whose motor I had mended at Osnabrück. If there was one man in all Germany I wished to avoid at that moment, it was certainly Glocken.

"Hullo! so it's you, is it?" he exclaimed.

Fischer was obviously as much astonished at the recognition as I was concerned. "You know Bulich, then?" he asked.

Glocken paused and appeared to sense something of the position and answered with a cunning squint at me: "I know him for a first-class workman."

"You're right," agreed Fischer, and then explained the object of the visit. Glocken was in the smuggling ring and looked after a very important and profitable branch—the smuggling of chemicals for ammunition. These were brought by aeroplane; it being deemed too risky to resort to the ordinary method. A consignment had arrived the previous evening, the pilot, a Dutchman named Vandervelt, had had an accident in landing, and I was wanted to put the thing right.

There was no way of getting out of it, and what objection there might have been was more than compensated for when Fischer drew me aside and told me he had arranged with Glocken that if my sister would venture the flying trip, she could go with the Dutchman. I agreed without asking Nessa; and as Fischer's car was now ready for the road we drove away in it.

Glocken sat in front with me and promptly started his questions. Very awkward questions some of them were too: about our former meeting; why I had not mentioned I knew Mrs. Fischer at the inn; why I had said I was coming from Osnabrück, when old Fischer had told him a very different story; and at last enough to show that he had seen the murder poster and was inclined to connect it with me.

Having in this way thoroughly scared me, as he thought, he broached the subject of Nessa's flight and asked what it was worth, hinting that Vandervelt was something of a bloodsucker. I had still an ample supply of money; about a couple of hundred pounds, some four thousand marks; and being prepared to part with every pfennig to get Nessa away, it was a considerable relief to find that it was to be a matter of bribing.

"Couple of hundred marks, enough?" I suggested.

"You don't know Vandervelt, or you wouldn't offer a trifle like that," he said, shaking his head.

"How much then? I'm not yet a partner in Krupp's, remember."

"What's it worth to you?"

"Fischer was going to do it for nothing last night. He's almost as sorry for my sister as I am."

"Vandervelt isn't Fischer," he replied drily. "Doesn't a thousand marks strike you as cheap?" he said with a wily significant leer. That was the amount of the reward!

"Out of the question, Glocken. She must have something in her pocket when she lands; and in any case Fischer's going to arrange it in a day or so."

"Hadn't she better be off at once? Delays are apt to be dangerous sometimes, you know."

"Why?" I asked, turning to him.

Our eyes met in a mutually intent stare, and his dropped first. "You know your own business," he muttered with a shrug. "But you'd better give the thousand, if you want her to go."

It was clearly best to haggle, so I advanced to five hundred, then to seven hundred and fifty, and at last to a thousand, protesting it was an imposition. He pretended to fire up at the word; but it was only the preface to asking for the money to be paid at once.

It was all going into his own pocket, of course; and after more words I agreed to give him half the amount when we reached his farm if I found my sister would risk the venture, and the remainder as soon as she was safely off.

I broached the matter to Nessa as soon as we arrived, and she met it at first with a flat refusal. "I won't go, Jack. I thought something of the sort was meant when you asked me to come here. I don't care what happens to me. I can't go."

"But I want you to care, Nessa. It's——"

"Well, I don't—and I won't."

"You're not afraid of the trip?"

"I'm not that sort of coward, thank you," she retorted sharply.

"I'm going to arrange with the pilot, Vandervelt's his name, for him to look after you when you land and see you to some station."

"I'm not taking the least interest in all this."

"You'd better book right through to Rotterdam and go to our Consulate, and I'll look for you there."

"I'm not going, Jack."

"You'd rather be clapped into an internment camp?"

"I don't care for fifty internment camps. They can do what they please with me, but I won't be coward enough to desert you."

"You can tell everything at the Consulate and——"

"Is that a Home for strayed cowards?" she cried, springing up and stamping her foot, her eyes flashing indignantly.

"No, it's the best meeting place for us and a safe refuge for quixotic girls."

"They're welcome to it, then. I shan't disturb them. If you wish to make me hate you, you'll persist in all this."

"I'd rather have you hate me than that you should stop here."

"How can you say such a thing as that?"

"Because I mean it; every syllable of it, Nessa, on my honour."

This appeared to make some impression. She winced and paled slightly. "I've never been thought a coward before," she said after a pause, but without so much of the former snap.

"What I do think is that if what you talk of doing is cowardice, I'd rather be thought a coward than anything else."

"That means that you approve of it then?"

"On the contrary. Don't let us get at cross purposes. I must be off to this job. The thing is this. If I'm alone here, I can get through everything without risk; and I can't if you stop. It's splendid of you to wish to stick it with me; but it'll be fatal to me; fatal to both of us, indeed."

"I don't care about myself."

"Then care for me. Do it for my sake."

"How would my stopping hurt you?"

I lost patience then. "There isn't time to go over it all again, Nessa. But if you persist in this, there's no use in