Part 15 (1/2)

Again I acted on impulse. I was wearing my gra.s.s-green raincoat, my hat I carried in my hand. I might therefore easily pa.s.s for one just leaving the Castle. Without hesitation, I turned to the left, the way I had come, and plunged once more into the labyrinth of galleries and corridors and landings by which the man in green had led me. I very soon lost myself, so I decided to descend the next staircase I should come to. I followed this plan and went down a broad flight of stairs, at the foot of which I found a night porter, clad in a vast overcoat bedizened with eagles and seated on a stool, reading a newspaper.

He stopped me and asked me my business. I told him I was coming from the Emperor's private apartments, whereupon he demanded my pa.s.s. I showed him my badge which entirely satisfied him, though he muttered something about ”new faces” and not having seen me before. I asked him for the way out. He said that at the end of the gallery I should come to the west entrance. I felt I had had a narrow squeak of running into my mentor outside. I told the man I wanted the other entrance ... I had my car there.

”You mean the south entrance?” he asked, and proceeded to give me directions which brought me, without further difficulty, out upon the open s.p.a.ce in front of the great equestrian statue of the Emperor William I.

It was a clear, starry night and I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw the Schloss-Platz glittering in the cold light of the arc lamps. So pressing had been the danger threatening me that the atmosphere of the Castle seemed stifling in comparison with the keen night air. A new confidence filled my veins as I strode along, though the perils to which I was advancing were not a whit less than those I had just escaped. For I had burnt my boats. My disappearance from the Castle must surely arouse suspicion and it was only a matter of hours for the hue and cry to be raised after me. At best it might be delayed until Clubfoot presented himself at the Castle.

I could not remain in Berlin, that was clear. My American pa.s.sport was not in order, and if I were to fall back upon my silver badge, I should instantly come into contact with the police with all kinds of unwelcome consequences. No, I must get out of Berlin at all costs. Well away from the capital, I might possibly utilize my silver badge or by its help procure ident.i.ty papers that would give me a status of some kind.

But Francis? Baffled as I was by that obscure jingle of German, something seemed to tell me that it was a message from my brother. It was dated from Berlin, and I felt that the solution of the riddle, if riddle it were, must be found here.

I had reached Unter den Linden. I entered a cafe and ordered a gla.s.s of beer. The place was a blaze of light and dense with a blue cloud of tobacco smoke. A noisy band was cras.h.i.+ng out popular tunes and there was a loud buzz of conversation rising from every table. It was all very cheerful and the noise and the bustle did me good after the strain of the night.

I drew from my pocket the slip of paper I had had from d.i.c.ky and fell to scanning it again. I had not been twelve hours in Germany, but already I was conscious that, for anyone acting a part, let anything go wrong with his ident.i.ty papers and he could never leave the country. If he were lucky, he might lie doggo; but there was no other course.

Supposing, then, that this had happened to Francis (as, indeed, Red Tabs had hinted to me was the case) what course would he adopt? He would try and smuggle out a message announcing his plight. Yes, I think that is what I myself would do in similar circ.u.mstances.

Well, I would accept this as a message from Francis. Now to study it once more.

_O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz!

Wie leer sind deine Blatter.

Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.

Wo zweie sich zanken Erfreut sich der Dritte._

The message fell into three parts, each consisting of a phrase. The first phrase might certainly be a warning that Francis had failed in his mission.

_”O Okewood! how empty are thy leaves!”_

What, then, of the other two phrases?

They were short and simple. Whatever message they conveyed, it could not be a lengthy one. Nor was it likely that they contained a report of Francis' mission to Germany, whatever it had been. Indeed, it was not conceivable that my brother would send any such report to a Dutchman like van Urutius, a friendly enough fellow, yet a mere acquaintance and an alien at that.

The message carried in those two phrases must be, I felt sure, a personal one, relating to my brother's welfare. What would he desire to say? That he was arrested, that he was going to be shot? Possibly, but more probably his idea in sending out word was to explain his silence and also to obtain a.s.sistance.

My eye recurred continually to the final phrase: ”When _two_ people fall out, the _third_ party rejoices.”

Might not these numerals refer to the number of a street? Might not in these two phrases be hidden an address at which one might find Francis, or at the worst, hear news of him?

I sent for the Berlin Directory. I turned up the streets section and eagerly ran my eye down the columns of the ”A's.” I did not find what I was looking for, and that was an ”Achilles-Stra.s.se,” either with two ”l's” or with one.

Then I tried ”Eichenholz.” There was an ”Eichenbaum-Allee” in the Berlin suburb called West-End, but that was all. I tried for a ”Blatter” or a ”Blatt-Stra.s.se” with an equally negative result.

It was discouraging work, but I went back to the paper again. The only other word likely to serve as a street remaining in the puzzle was ”Zelt.”

”Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.”

Wearily I opened the directory at the ”Z's.”

There, staring me in the face, I found the street called ”In den Zelten.”