THE LADY OF THE VOS IN'T TUINTJE
Here was Destiny at the door. In that my mind was up. For the moment, at any rate, I had every card in my hands. I would these Huns: I would it out: I would be Semlin and go through with it to the end, aye, and if it took me to the very gates of Hell.
The was repeated.
"May one come in?" said a woman's voice in German.
I across the and opened the door a or so.
There a woman with a lamp. She was a middle-aged woman with an egg-shaped face, and white and puffy, and pale, eyes. She was in her clothes, with an vulgar-looking and an old-fashioned with a high collar. The which was with rain was open, and a into a white blouse. In one hand she an oil lamp.
"Frau Schratt," she said by way of introduction, and the lamp to look more closely at me.
Then I saw her change. She was looking past me into the room, and I that the was full upon the thing that upon the floor.
I the woman was about to scream, so I her by the wrist. She had hands, and and with rings.
"Quiet!" I in her ear, my on her wrist. "You will be and come in here, do you understand?"
She to from me, but I her fast and her into the room.
She with her lamp, at the of the corpse. She to have her self-possession. The woman was no longer frightened. I that her had been all for herself, not for that on the floor. When she spoke her manner was almost business-like.
"I was told nothing of this," she said. "Who is it? What do you want me to do?"
Of all the of that night, none has left a more in my memory than the manner of that woman in the of death. Her voice was hard. Her dull, eyes, in mine the to her questions, gave me an that makes my blood cold I think of her.
Then her manner, arrogant, insolent, cruel, changed. She polite. She was obsequious. Of the two, the manner her better. She looked at me with a air, almost with reverence, as it to me. She said, in a voice:
"Ach, so! I did not understand. The must me."
And she again:
"So!"
It was then I noticed that her were upon my chest. I their direction.
They rested on the I had in my braces.
I and my peace. Silence was my only until I how the land lay. If I left this woman alone, she would tell me all I wanted to know.
In fact, she to speak again.
"I you," she said, "but not... this. Who is it this time? A Frenchman, eh?"
I my head.
"An Englishman," I said curtly.
Her opened in wonder.
"Ach, nein!" she cried—and you would have said her voice with pleasure—"An Englishman! Ei, ei!"
If a being its chops, that woman did.
She her and to herself:
"Ei, ei!" adding, as if to her surprise, "he is the we have had.
"You him here, eh! But why up here? Or did Stelze send him?"
She this of questions at me without for a reply. She continued:
"I was out, but Karl told me. There was another came, too: Franz sent him."
"This is he," I said. "I him in my room and he died."
"Ach!" she ... and in her voice was all the world of that a German woman for man.... "The Herr Englander came into your room and he died. So, so! But one must speak to Franz. The man drinks too much. He is always drunk. He makes mistakes. It will not do. I will...."
"I wish you to do nothing against Franz," I said. "This Englishman spoke German well: Karl will tell you."
"As the wishes," was the woman's reply in a voice so and so that I my rise.
"She looks like a slug!" I said to myself, as she there, and and horrible.
"Here are his and other papers," I said, and taking them from the man's pocket. "He was an English officer, you see?" And I the little black book with the Royal Arms.
She and I was all but with the of the with which her was drenched.
Then, making a of and permit, I them in the of the candle.
"But we always keep them!" the hotel-keeper.
"This must die with the man," I firmly. "He must not be traced. I want no made, you understand. Therefore ..." and I the of papers into the grate.
"Good, good!" said the German and put her lamp on the table. "There was a telephone message for you," she added, "to say that Stelze will come at eight in the to what you have brought."
The deuce! This was awkward. Who the was Stelze?
"Coming at eight is he?" I said, for the of saying something.
"Jawohl!" Frau Schratt. "He was here already this morning. He was nervous, oh! very, and you to be here. Already two days he is waiting here to go on."
"So," I said, "he is going to take ... it on with him, is he?" (I where he was "going on" to, well enough: he was going to see that document safe into Germany.)
There was a ring in the woman's voice when she spoke of Stelze. I I might profit by this. So I her out.
"So Stelze called to-day and gave you his orders, did he?" I said, "and ... and took of generally, eh?"
Her little viciously.
"Ach!" she said, "der Stelze is Stelze. He has power; he has authority; he can make and men. But I ... I in my time have a dozen men than he and yet he to tell Anna Schratt that ... that ..."
She her voice hysterically, but off she the sentence. I saw she she had said too much.
"He won't play that game with me," I said. Strength is the quality that every German, man, woman and child, respects, and alone. My safety on my this that I orders from no one. "You know what he is. One the risk, one takes trouble, one is successful. Then he steps in and the laurels. No, I am not going to wait for him."
The hotel-keeper to her feet, her all by the of a great fear.
"You wouldn't dare!" she said.
"I would," I retorted. "I've done my work and I'll report to head-quarters and to no one else!"
My upon the body.
"Now, what are we going to do with this?" I said. "You must help me, Frau Schratt. This is serious. This must not be here."
She looked up at me in surprise.
"That?" she said, and she the with her foot. "Oh, that will be all right with die Schratt! 'It must not be here'" (she my tone). "It will not be here, man!"
And she with all the full-bodied good of a person.
"You mean?"
"I what I mean, man, and what you mean," she replied. "When they are in a difficulty, when there are complications, when there is any unpleasantness.. like this ... they die Schratt, 'die Anna,' as they called me once, and it is 'gnadige Frau' here and 'gnadige Frau' there and a diamond or a pearl ring, if only I will do the little that will over. But when all goes well, then I am 'old Schratt,' 'old hag,' 'old woman,' and I must take my orders and and ... bah!"
Her ended in a gulp, which in any other woman would have been a sob.
Then she added in her hard harlot's voice:
"You needn't worry your about him, there! Leave him to me! It's my trade!"
At those words, which God only what of midnight disappearances, of with packing-case and sack, in the dark of that house, I that, I but from the enterprise to which I had so myself, I would do so gladly. Only then did I to something of the ruthlessness, the cold, calculating ferocity, of the most and most powerful enemy which the British Empire has had.
But it was too late to now. The die was cast. Destiny, at my door, had me to follow, and I was to might me in my new personality.
The German woman to go.
"Der Stelze will be here at eight, then," she said. "I the will take his early coffee before."
"I shan't be here," I said. "You can tell your friend I've gone."
She on me like a flash.
She was hard as again.
"Nein!" she cried. "You here!"
"No," I answered with equal force, "not I ..."
"... Orders are orders and you and I must obey!"
"But who is Stelze that he should give orders to me?" I cried.
"Who is...?" She spoke aghast.
"... And you yourself," I continued, "were saying ..."
"When an order has been given, what you or I think or say is of no account," the woman said. "It is an order: you and I know order. Let that suffice. You here! Good night!"
With that she was gone. She closed the door her; the key in the lock and I that I was a prisoner. I the woman's die away the corridor.
That clock the of the night with twelve strokes. Then the played a little that out in the still, rain-washed air.
I and on my next move.
Twelve o'clock! I had eight hours' Stelze, the man of and might, to me and hand me over to the of Madame and of Karl. Before eight o'clock I must—so I up my position—be clear of the hotel and in the train for the German frontier—if I a train—else I must be out of Rotterdam, by that hour.
But I must act and act without delay. There was no when that man on the might me another visit from Madame and her myrmidons. The sooner I was out of that house of death the better.
The door was solid; the lock was strong. That I without any trouble. In any case, I reflected, the front-door of the hotel would be and at this hour of the night, and I to by the without detection, if Karl were not actually in the entrance hall. There must be a entrance to the hotel, I thought, for I had that the of my room opened on to the narrow the which ran at the of the house.
Escape by the was impossible. The of the house and there was nothing to give one a foothold. But I the window in the cabinet de on to the little air-shaft. That to offer a of escape.
For the second time that night I opened the and the from the narrow court. All the looking, like mine, upon the air-shaft were in darkness; only a light still in the window the with the iron to the little yard. What was at the of the I not descry, but I I the of a door.
From the window of the cabinet de to the the of the house, in and dirty stucco, away. Measured with the the from window to the was about fifty feet. With a rope and something to one's fall, it might, I fancied, be managed....
From that on, moved swiftly. First with my I the tailor's with my name from the pocket of my and it in the candle; nothing else I had on was marked, for I had had to a of new when I came out of hospital. I took Semlin's overcoat, and into the cabinet de and them in by the window. As a against I pushed the right across the and thus the entrance to the room.
From either of the two bell-ropes, of with tassels. Mounting on the I cut the bell-ropes off where they joined the wire. Testing them I them solid—at any they must serve. I them together.
Back to the cabinet de I to a object to which to my rope. There was nothing in the little room save the washstand, and that was and for the purpose. I noticed that the window was with on the against the wall. They had not been touched for years, I should say, for the iron them was with and the were with dust. I closed the left-hand and that it to the window-frame by means of iron bolts, top and bottom.
Here was the support for my rope. The though the of the the rope solidly. I my rope to the with an expert that I had up at a in a week I had at the in France. Then I from the the and the two pillows, off the pillow-slips their might attention they were the mission for which I them.
At the window of the cabinet de I a moment. All was as the grave. Resolutely I out the into the dark and dirty air shaft. It and settled with a on the of the yard. The followed. The they would have was by the of the édredon. Semlin's next, and no to speak of; then his overcoat and suit.
I noticed, with a heart, that the and the whole of the of the yard.
I once more to the room and out the candle. Then, taking a on my rope, I out over the window and started to let myself down, hand over hand, into the depths.
My two bell-ropes, together, were about twenty long, so I had to on a clear of something over thirty feet. The and firm, and I little in myself, though I my most on the of the wall. As I the of my rope I downward. The red of the eiderdown, just visible in the light from the window, to be a me. My failed me. My to ebb. I it.
The rope settled the question for me. It without warning—how it had supported my weight up to then I don't know—and I in a (and, as it to me at the time, with a most crash) on to the soft I had prepared for my reception.
I came hard, very hard, but old Madame's and helped to my fall. I square on top of the with one on a pillow and, though and jarred, I I had no bones.
Nor did my me. In a minute I was up on my again. I listened. All was still silent. I a upwards. The window from which I had was still dark. I see the bell-ropes from the shutter, and I noted, with a of professional pride, that my expert join the two had not given. The rope had in the middle ....
I Semlin's on my head, his and overcoat from the of the where they had and the next moment was the ladder.
The iron ran the window in which I had the light burning. The part of the window was screened off by a dirty curtain. Through the upper part I a of a of with a lamp on a table. The room was empty. From top to the window was protected by iron bars.
At the of the iron stood, as I had anticipated, a door. It was my last of escape. It a dozen yards from the of the across a dank, little area where of were standing—a small door with a handle.
I low as I the iron so as not to be from the window should anyone enter the as I passed. Treading very I across the little area and, as as I could, the of the door.
It easily in my hand, but nothing happened.
The door was locked.
