Part 34 (2/2)
”I know many things,” he smiled. ”The money comes from Dr. Kasnilov and will be brought to Dr. Max Levine in Munich, and the good Max will buy a garrison of Landwehr with it and establish the soviet republic of Bavaria.”
”You know Levine?”
”Very well,” smiled the Baron.
Mathilde sat up. Her voice acquired a vicious dullness.
”You will not interfere with me, von Stinnes.”
”I, Matty?” The Baron laughed and resumed his mocha. ”I am heart and soul with Levine. If Dorn cannot go I will have to go alone. It is necessary I be in Munich when the Soviets are called out.”
”You will not interfere with me, von Stinnes,” the girl repeated, ”or I will kill you.”
”You have my permission, Fraulein. The logical time for my death is long past.”
Mathilde's sharp young face had grown alive with excitement. She sat with her eyes unwaveringly upon the Baron as if her thought were groping desperately beneath the smiling weariness of the man.
”Mr. Dorn,” she spoke, ”von Stinnes is a traitor.”
Dorn smiled.
”If one million marks will cause a revolution, I'll take them to Munich myself,” he answered. ”I'm sick of Berlin. I need a revolution to divert me.”
”I fear I am in the way,” von Stinnes interrupted. He arose with formality. ”Mathilde would like to unburden herself to you, Dorn. I am, she will inform you, a secret agent of Colonel Nickolai, and Colonel Nickolai is the head of the anti-bolshevist pro-royalist propaganda in Prussia.” He paused and smiled. ”I will meet you in the lobby when you come down.”
He walked toward the door, halting before the excited face of the girl.
”Ah, Matty, Matty,” he murmured, ”you will not in your zeal forget that I love you?”
He bowed whimsically and pa.s.sed out. Dorn laid aside his book and approached the divan. In the week since their return from Weimar he had become interested in the moody, dynamic young creature. The fact that she had resisted the expert persuasions of the Baron--a subject on which the n.o.bleman had discoursed piquantly on their ride to Berlin--had appealed to him.
”Karl is a good fellow,” he said, seating himself next to her. ”And if it happens he is employed by Noske and Nickolai it doesn't alter my opinion of him.”
”He is a scoundrel,” she answered quietly.
”That is impossible,” Dorn smiled. ”He is merely a man without convictions and therefore free to follow his impulses and his employers.
I thank G.o.d for von Stinnes. He has made Europe possible. A revolution alone could rival him in my affections.”
The girl remained silent, and Dorn watched her face. He might embrace her and make love. It would perhaps flatter, please her. She fancied him a man of astounding genius. She had practically memorized his book.
Thus, one had only to smile humorlessly, permit one's eyes to grow enigmatic, and think of a proper epigram. He recalled for an instant the two women who had succ.u.mbed to his technique since he had left America.
They blurred in his memory and became offensive. Yet Matty had been of service and perhaps her moodiness was caused by a suppressed affection.
As an amorous prospect she was not without interest. As a reality, however, she would obviously become a bore. In any case there was nothing to hinder polite investigation, mark time with kisses until von Stinnes brought on his promised revolution. He thought carefully.
Pessimism was the proper note. Dramatize with an epigram the emptiness of life. His forte--emptiness. Not love but a hunger to live.
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