The Man Without a Memory Part 33

"Not a thing. So far as I know, I never saw the woman before in all my life."

"But she was positive?"

"She embraced me and called me her 'long lost darling,' and so on."

"Women are hysterical creatures, we know, and apt to make any sort of statement at such moments. Do you think she was really in earnest? Of course it's important."

"Your people could judge that as well as I, sir."

"True. Which would you rather it was--true or false?"

"False, without a question."

"Despite the fact that it establishes your ident.i.ty?"

"Certainly. Any man who feels as I do now must loathe to have such a brutal thing as that dug up out of his past."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that." He smiled as if he was really glad, but there was something else behind his questions that left me guessing as usual.

If he accepted the woman's recognition as settling the matter of my identification as La.s.sen, was it better to leave it there or risk unsettling him again by telling him about the subsequent interview with her? Rather a nice point to decide. But his next question cleared the course and concealment kicked the beam.

"You'd like to have the matter investigated?"

"Certainly," I replied promptly. Very few official inquiries would give him the truth, and it was thus much better to tell it myself. "I was going to ask your advice about it. I know that part of her story is false; she owned it; and I doubt all the rest;" and I described the interview.

This appeared to both interest and amuse him, especially my instant offer to marry Anna; and he expressed his appreciation in the equivocal fas.h.i.+on. "It was clever, my boy; quite the best line. You must have had considerable experience in bluffing people;" and there was a glint in his keen eyes which might have meant anything. "You can act well too, or you'd never have dragged that confession out of her. She must have thought you were in earnest."

"I was, sir. If she can prove that I am the man she thinks, I will marry her."

"Good. Very good indeed. _If_ she can prove it, of course. But you wouldn't relish the job, eh?"

"That goes without saying."

"Well, we'll hope she can't. We shall soon know all about her. In the meantime what are you going to do?"

"I can only wait and see."

He laughed and rubbed his hands. "Wait and see, eh? That's the English Premier's phrase, isn't it? So you've picked that up, it seems."

His comment made me wish I'd used a different one. "There isn't anything else to do, sir."

"Quite so. Wait and see. Exactly. And as an honourable man you'd prefer to get the question settled before leaving Berlin?"

The shrewd old beggar was a positive expert in sticking one in a hole.

I didn't know what answer to make, so I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled vacuously.

"It's rather a pity, too," he continued after a pause. "I've arranged that matter of your leaving; in fact I intended you to go to-day. I have all the necessary papers, even tickets for you and Miss Caldicott;" and he took them out of his desk and laid them in front of me, giving me one of those wily smiles of his.

I could have cursed the luck. The sight of them, the knowledge that Nessa and I could have been out of the infernal country within a few hours but for this rotten thing coming in the way, so exasperated me that it was scarcely possible to conceal my bitter chagrin. I tried to hide it from him by taking the papers and looking them over.

"Oh dear, I've forgotten something," he exclaimed, rising. "I'll be back in a moment," and he went out of the room.

What a temptation that was! To have all I needed actually in my hands; to be left alone with them and yet not to be able to use them! I'd have given every s.h.i.+lling I had in the world to have stuffed them into my pocket and walked off. Did he mean me to take them? Or was it intended as a test? Did he guess what a temptation it was? Could I get away with them? He stopped out of the room long enough, and as the minutes pa.s.sed, it was all I could do to resist it.

But I stuck it; put the papers down on his desk and tried not to look at them. It was a touch of sheer purgatory. His first glance, when at length he returned, was at them, and the way he looked at me made me pretty certain that he could guess something of my feeling. It looked uncommonly as if he were disappointed to find me still in the room and the papers on his table.

"I'm sorry to have kept you, my boy, but it couldn't be helped," he said as he sat down and put the temptation out of sight. "I told you in my letter that I had something important to tell you. I have, and unpleasant into the bargain. Was Count von Erstein with you last night?"

"Yes, about ten o'clock."

"Did you offer him some drink?"

"Yes, and a cigar, but he refused both."

"What was he doing there? Wait, I'll tell you first that he has made a charge against you that you attempted to poison him."

I laughed. "Of course I didn't. It was a joke."

"It may not be altogether a laughing matter; he's a dangerous man to joke with. Would you care to tell me about it all?"

"Of course. This will explain a good deal." I put my hand in my waistcoat pocket for Rudolff's statement, and then for the first time missed the card case which Rosa had given me. The loss was of no consequence, however, as I had the fellow's confession. "Before I give it you I ought to say that I promised the man who wrote this that if he was prepared to swear to the truth of it, he should come to no harm."

"That'll be all right," he agreed with a nod.

"An attempt was made on my life last night by this fellow and two others at von Erstein's instigation;" and I described the affair and all that had occurred subsequently.

"Ah, more clever bluff, eh? Upon my word I shall be expecting you to try it with me next," he said. Then he read over the confession carefully and lapsed into thought. Long and apparently anxious thought it was, too.

"I'll stand by you, my boy. I believe your story implicitly and I know von Erstein. But it was a bad mistake. He has a lot of influence in many directions. I hope you'll hear no more of it; but it was a bad blunder." He paused and, in a different and lighter tone and with a very peculiar look and a shadow of a smile, added: "It makes me almost wish you had taken advantage of my absence just now to get away with those tickets."

What on earth could one make of such a statement? If he'd given me another chance I'd have taken it; but he didn't. He locked the tickets up and sent me away, saying he would look into my affairs at once and send for me as soon as there was any need.

CHAPTER XVII

ANNA HILDEN AGAIN

It is difficult to describe my feelings when I left von Gratzen, but I think my chief thought was a bitter regret that I hadn't taken the tickets and chanced things, mingled with a disquieting belief that I was muddling matters hopelessly.

Neither regret nor self-cursing were of the slightest help, however; and after a few minutes of impotent perplexity, I realized that extremely obvious fact.

Something had to be done; and the question was--what?

It looked as if von Gratzen would have let me have those tickets if I hadn't been a.s.s enough to tell him about Anna and play the fool about being eager to have that affair cleared up first. He had not appeared to attach sufficient importance to the poison charge to refuse them on that account.

This cleared the ground a little, therefore. Could the obstacle be removed in time to allow of my using them that night? Could I get the confession from Anna herself, this meant? It was worth trying.