Part 18

In the evening, when the twilight was descending, they drove to Constance. Mabuse was sober, silent and morose. His imagination was already busy and his nerves reacting to his stern resolves, as he thought of the crowds of young men in the town, which seemed but a mere speck on his horizon--men who had been working for him since the Armistice. From this very town he himself had made a new start when the war had driven him from his own vast plantations in the Solomon Isles back into the European vortex, and he could find nothing better to do than work for medical examinations and exchange his career in the Pacific for that of a doctor in a town of Southern Germany.

Wenk was awakened by a feeling of chilliness, which set him shivering. He pulled his cloak round him, under the impression that the coverlet had slipped off his bed, but he soon became aware of his error. He sat up, feeling giddy and at first unable to recall anything. He came slowly to himself and then he perceived where he was and saw the castle buildings gleaming through the darkness.

He rose hastily and moved away, but he was still dazed, and had to jump about to get any warmth into his body. What could the time be? He felt for his watch, but it was not there, and then he went hastily through his pockets. His purse was missing; so, too, were his pocket-book and his official notebook. He had fallen into the hands of thieves. The strange thing was how it could have happened that he had escaped with his life?

Then sudden dread seized upon him. He held his head in his hands, setting his jaws firmly, striving to subdue his feeling of despair. His notebook was missing, and in this were to be found addresses, reports, information, data, plans of all kinds.... The very first thing he recalled about it was the opening page, on which the Hull affair was fully set forth.... Wenk now hurried straight forward. If only he could recover his notebook! He rushed on till he was out of breath, then stopped and asked himself, “What shall I do? Go to the nearest railway-station? But what is the time? It may be one o’clock, it may be five. How am I to tell? And when would the first train start? It might mean waiting in front of a closed railway-station for four, even five hours!” Then he reflected that if he were to wake anybody in the castle he would have to submit to questioning. No; that would do no good. Should he make a fuss about it? It was clear that the chauffeur had acted in obedience to the blond stranger’s orders. Had the latter really penetrated his disguise and laid his plans so cautiously and cleverly beforehand, or was it the usual thing that anyone who appeared in any way suspicious should at once be put to the test in this way? Could it be merely theft, and the book have been taken from him by accident? He realized that when he seated himself on the cushions he must have set the gas-current free, for there was no gas in the car when he got in. That had been arranged, then. No, it wasn’t that way either. It was something both simpler and safer. The driver could open the gas valve from his seat. Of course that was the way of it.

Thinking thus, Wenk reached the highroad, only half-conscious of his resolve to proceed to Munich on foot. He went as fast as he could, but every now and then he had to stop and wait till a feeling of giddiness had passed. That must be the effect of the gas. What sort of gas could it be that operated so rapidly and yet did so little harm? His foes might just as easily have used a deadly gas, then they would have got rid of him altogether. Why did they use a stupefying gas merely? Was it meant for a warning to him?

Now, at any rate, his notebook was in their hands, and perhaps they wanted nothing more of him than that. It was but an attack on his little notebook. Whose names were to be found there? Karstens’, for one ... and an account of all the occurrences in the gaming-houses with the sandy-bearded man and the old Professor, and in the Palace Hotel likewise. All the places where gambling was carried on were noted there too. It was clearly only his notebook that they wanted, and that they had succeeded in getting, but the book he had lost had meant a good deal to him.

He went faster and faster by the sleeping houses, past the peaceful suburbs and into the quiet approaches of the town. The byways, in which traces of snow still lay, seemed like dragons creeping through the night, bent on spying in the ghostly light on those who went by, and Wenk shuddered at the thought. But when a tram-car drew near he felt more at ease. He soon recognized where he was and hastened to his own chambers. He was thoroughly exhausted when he reached home, threw himself fully dressed upon his bed and became unconscious once more, not awakening until the evening.

The first idea which occurred to him then was that henceforth his life was at stake. He accepted it calmly, for since he was combating evil, it was natural that it should be so. The conflict would be played out on the borderland between existence and annihilation, and for one moment he wondered whether it were worth while to go on. But only for a moment. He immediately told himself that there could be no question of hesitation here. Such men are like beasts escaped from a menagerie, and it was his task, his duty, the justification for his existence, to help to make them powerless for evil. There must be no fear of men, no fear of the body any more than he had had of the soul, since his mind had once succeeded in grasping the crisis through which his country was passing. Since he too had been a witness of its genesis, he must help to overcome its effects.

Yet one more thought. Was he a match for his opponent? Must he not fortify himself if he were henceforward to pit his life and strength in such a struggle? His adversary seemed to have the advantage of him, for he worked in the dark. Were his own hands strong enough to seize and hold the evil powers advancing upon him and to crush them? Had he the strength to fight the age, for his opponent was more than a cheat, a criminal--he was the whole spirit of the age, a spirit torn through the catastrophe of the war from the hellish depths where it was created, to fall upon the world and the homes of men. He realized that against such an opponent he must spread his nets more widely if he hoped to ensnare him. He must have an organization equal to the criminal’s own. He must not, as hitherto, consider it sufficient to rely on his confederates, those who were entirely of one mind with himself. He must seek his helpers in the enemy’s camp.

At once he thought of the lady whose strange and questionable escape he had assisted. He drove quickly to Schramm’s. Yes, there she was, but, as usual, a spectator merely. He sat down beside her.

“You are not playing, sir?” said she.

“No, your example has made watching more interesting than playing to me.”

“Watching,” laughed the lady lightly, “when carried on by a high legal official is not good ... for the players!”

Wenk had a slight suspicion that this was said with a double meaning, but whether mockingly or warningly he could not decide; in any case, it was said to serve the purpose of some other, who possibly was sitting there at play. Perhaps they worked secretly in partnership.

He observed her closely, but she sat quietly idle. Her bright eyes roved in all directions. He said to her, feeling his way:

“You have yourself seen a high legal official caught in the toils of the gaming-devil. His jurisdiction is troublesome to the other player!”

He said “the other,” and waited to see whether she would start, or twitch nervously, or give the player some sign or other. But she did none of these things, merely remained still and accepted his words with a friendly smile.

“She is a beautiful woman,” he thought, “and there is some secret reserve strength in her. Men play for money, but it would be more worthy of their manhood to play for such a woman as this.”

After a few moments she leaned towards him, saying lightly and with a playful impressiveness:

“I was present when Basch lost so heavily!”

“I know you were,” said Wenk, astonished and inquiringly.

“And you were playing then, too.”

“Yes, I was playing. I have just confessed it!”

“Ah, but I mean you were really playing then! The first evening, when you came with Hull, you took part in the game, but you were not really playing. And the evening when the old Professor was there--well, I don’t quite know, there was some sort of atmospheric disturbance ... wasn’t there now?” she said, turning to him with a melting and wholly feminine gesture of friendliness.

Wenk was taken aback. He replied:

“That evening when the old Professor was there? What old Professor?”

“The evening you came as a country cousin,” she answered roguishly.

At last Wenk comprehended that she had recognized him, and his face showed his disappointment, but she begged him not to mind her having found him out.