Part 61

On the very next day Wenk was summoned to the telephone. “Police Superintendent Vörös speaking! Things have fallen out most favourably for you, my dear sir! In the home of one of our countrymen, about whom I will tell you a few things in confidence, Weltmann is giving an entertainment this very evening. It is quite enough for you to have expressed the wish; you may consider yourself invited, without any further formality. It is a most hospitable house, and you won’t feel yourself in any way a stranger. There are between sixty and seventy people invited. I’ll undertake all the arrangements, and if it suits you I’ll come in a car for you at nine o’clock. The villa is some distance out behind Nicholas Lake.”

“Thank you very much. Your kindness overwhelms me,” answered Wenk, “and I do not know how to requite it.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” answered the other heartily. “We Hungarians are only too pleased to have such a chance. Then we can regard that as settled?”

“Quite, thank you!”

“How very amiable the Hungarians are,” thought Wenk, as he hung up the receiver. He felt quite ashamed of himself for having had a doubt of the police superintendent’s good faith.

He spent the afternoon among the archives of the Criminal Investigation Department, where he and the colleague with whom he had talked concerning the Mabuse crimes looked through the collection of photographs of criminals. Face after face drew his attention. He would not give up until he had seen them all, and when he came back to his lodgings, tired out with his protracted labours, he had only just time to don his evening clothes in readiness for the function he was to attend.

Police Superintendent Vörös was punctual.

“Now I must tell you something about our host and my fellow-countrymen out there by the Lake,” he said directly the car started. “He was formerly Prince of Komor and Komorek, and he married a Viennese dancer. Of course, his people were furious! They made things so disagreeable for him that one day he said, ‘All right: you’ve gone too far. You’ve done with your Prince. From to-day I am plain Komorek,’ and then he wandered off. He was very rich, anyhow, and not in any way dependent on his people. The only thing that is still ‘princely’ about him is his mansion out yonder. You will see it for yourself. He’s been living there for ten years now. His wife is very smart and exclusive--more exclusive than a princess. Of course, she is no longer young. Have you had your evening meal?”

“No, I had no time.”

“Well, that does not matter. At Komorek’s house they are always ready for guests. You’ll get something good to eat there.”

Wenk asked himself, “Why is the man so talkative?” and once more his feeling of repulsion for the Hungarian regained its sway. He was inwardly both excited and uneasy, and in spite of the darkness in the car his eyes smarted. There seemed to be a constant stabbing sensation in them, and the thousands of likenesses he had seen that day seemed to be chasing each other round and round in a never-ending stream. “How much I should like to be at home and in bed!” he thought to himself. The car drove through districts which were unknown to him, and this was peculiar, for he had made the trip to the Nicholas Lake several times already and thought he knew the district beyond Friedenau. To-day, however, everything seemed unfamiliar. Was it the thick darkness of the night and the very sparse illuminations allowed since the war, or was it his own mood, which was responsible?

“Surely we ought to be at Nicholas Lake by now!” said he.

“I am not familiar with this neighbourhood,” said Vörös.

“I used to have friends out there, and I often drove there by motor-car, but of course that was before the war.”

“Ah, yes, before the war. Everything was different then,” and they both became silent.

Wenk looked at his watch, but it was too dark to read the dial, and for a long time now there had been scarcely any lights.

After a prolonged pause, Wenk said, “Surely the driver has not lost his way?”

“He is a Berlin taxi-driver. He told me he knew the way quite well.”

Wenk took up the speaking-tube: “Chauffeur, you know where it is? Nicholas Lake, the Komorek Villa.”

At this moment the car swung round, and lights appeared at the end of a long avenue.

“Here we are!” said the superintendent of police.

The motor soon drew up among other cars, all close together in front of the outside staircase leading to the house. It was not lighted, but the three French windows in the hall on to which it opened gave sufficient light. Wenk advanced rapidly to the light. Vörös conducted him to the cloakroom, which was filled with overcoats. A clock in the hall struck ten; its strokes were harsh and hasty, as if it would flog the hours away. Wenk, trying to count them, could not keep up with it.

“Ten o’clock,” he said to himself. “We’ve been an hour coming, and yet the car seemed to be doing about forty-five kilometres an hour. Nicholas Lake is not so far away as all that!” and again a faint misgiving stole over him.

He looked towards the Hungarian, who was smiling pleasantly at him. Then they went towards the large folding doors.

“Allow me to precede you, so that I may introduce you to the Princess at once.”

A man-servant threw open the door and Wenk followed the police superintendent into a fairly large hall. The first thing he noticed was that the light was very subdued; then he saw that in one corner there was a semicircular raised platform, draped with Persian hangings. Some chairs and a table, covered with a dark cloth, stood upon it. In the rows of chairs which filled the room, folks in evening dress were sitting. There were many fewer ladies than gentlemen, and those there were, were dressed in very fashionable and striking attire.

Then Vörös murmured, “The Princess!” and presented Wenk.

“Is this the friend you spoke of?” said the lady, with a winning smile. “You are very welcome, Herr von Wenk. We are pleased that you are able to give us your company this evening. May I pass you gentlemen on to my husband? A hostess’s duties, you know, my dear sir!...”