I BOARD THE BERLIN TRAIN AND LEAVE A LAME GENTLEMAN ON THE PLATFORM
I was like a in a trap. I not return by the way I had come and the only was closed to me. The area door and window were the only means of from the little court. The one was locked, the other barred. I was trapped. All I had to do now was to wait until my was and the rope to them where I was. Then they would come to the area, I should be with the man, Stelze, and my would be cooked.
As as I I a complete, thorough, of the area. It was a dank, dark place, only where the yellow light from the scullery. It had a of low out of the under the little courtyard, the one with blocks, the other with packingcases, old bottles and like rubbish. I these until my hands came in with the at the back, but in vain. Door and window the only means of escape.
Four tall in line in of these two bays, a was away under the iron stair. They were all nearly full of refuse, so were as places. In any case it neither with the part I was playing with my of the to be by the hotel in a bin.
I was at my wits' end to know what to do. I had so much, all had gone so well, that it was to be with almost my grasp. A great of over me until I my very sicken. Then I and me.
I into the of the area the in of the nearest the door.
Within the house were the scullery. I a door open, then a man's voice singing. He was in a that popular German ballad:
"Das die Mädchen so Die im Stübchen die im Salong."
The voice and and on that word "Salong": the was so much to the singer's that he sang the over again. A and a as of objects in an empty box the to his song.
"A fellow!" I said to myself. If only I see who it was! But I not move into that of yellow light from which the only view into the was afforded.
The stopped. Again I a door open. Was he going away?
Then I saw a thin of light under the area door.
The next moment it was and the waiter, Karl, appeared, still in his apron, a in either hand.
He was to the bins.
Pudd'n Head Wilson's came into my mind; "When angry count up to four; when very angry, swear." I was not angry but scared, scared, so that I my in great in my ears. Nevertheless, I the of the of Dawson's Landing and to myself: one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four; while my out: Keep cool, keep cool, keep cool! And all the time I the two nearest the door.
The waiter to himself the of his little in a as he paused a moment at the door. Then he slowly across the area.
Would he stop at the which I cowered?
No, he passed them.
The third? The fourth?
No!
He walked across the area and to the the stairs.
I a on the of the German who his into tubs.
The man had his to the door.
Now or was my chance.
I my garbage tins, the area door on tip-toe and into the house. As I did so I the of as Karl replaced the of the tub.
A dark passage out in of me. Immediately to my right was the door wide open. I must avoid the at all costs. The man might there and I not him me him to the entrance of the hotel.
I the dark passage with hands outstretched. Presently they upon the of a door. I pressed it, the door opened into the and I passed through. As I closed the door me I Karl's step and the of the key as he locked the area door.
I in a of in darkness, to breathe.
Once more I the man his song. I did not look out from my hiding-place, for his voice so near that I he might be still in the passage.
So I and waited.
I must have there for an hour in the dark. I the waiter and going in the scullery, to his tramp, to his of song, to the of utensils, as he about his work. Every minute of the time I was by the that he would come to the in the passage.
It was cold in that place. The was enough, so I I would put on the overcoat I was carrying. As I out my arm, my hand hard against some of in the me.
"Damn!" I under my breath, but I put out my hand again to out what had me. My the cold iron of a latch. I pressed it and it gave.
A door open and I myself in another little area with a of steps leading to the street.
I was in a narrow the tall of the houses. It was a cul-de-sac. At the open end I see the of lamps. It had stopped and the air was fresh and pleasant. Carrying my I walked the and presently in a by a canal—probably the street, I thought, that I had from the of my bedroom. The Hotel Sixt to the right of the lane: I out to the left and in a minutes myself in an open square the Bourse.
There I a cab-rank with three or four up in line, the somnolent, the their vehicles. I up the and the driver take me to the Café Tarnowski.
Everyone who has been to Holland the Café Tarnowski at Rotterdam. It is an place with hundreds of marble-topped tables away among under a roof. Day or night it closes: the waiters succeed each other in shifts: day and night the great to the of orders, the of the waiters' feet, the of on the marble tables.
Delicious Dutch café au lait, a and potatoes, most of all Dutch dishes, white bread, from the midnight baking, and Dutch butter, for the of the night. Then I sent for some more coffee, black this time, and a railway guide, and a cigarette to my plan of campaign.
The train for Berlin left Rotterdam at seven in the morning. It was now ten minutes past two, so I had of time. From that night onward, I told myself, I was a German, and from that moment I set myself to myself a German as well as the part.
"It's no use a part," Francis used to say to me; "you must it as well. If I were going to myself as a Berliner, I should not be to my and wear a with a and my pink. I should by myself that I was the Lord of creation, that manners is a of and that is the of diplomacy. Then only should I set about the costume!"
Poor old Francis! How he was and how well he his Berliners!
There is nothing like newspapers for one an idea of national sentiment. I had not spoken to a German, save to a German rats, of in France, since the of the and I that my knowledge of German must be rusty. So I sent the waiter for all the German papers and he his hands on. He returned with of them, Berliner Tageblatt, Kélnische Zeitung, Vorwérts; the papers, Kladderadatsch, Lustige Blétter and Simplicissimus; the press, Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung, Der Weltkrieg im Bild, and the rest: that café took in such less popular as Harden's Zukunft and semi-blackmailing like Der Roland Berlin.
For two hours I myself with German as in the German press. I my mind open to conviction; I to myself over and over again: "We Germans are a war: the Grey the world-war: Gott England!" Absurd as this to me when I look upon it, I would not laugh at myself at the time. I must be German, I must German, I must think German: on that would my safety in the depend.
I my reading in the end with a of amazement. In every one of these publications, in peace-time so in and trend, I the same mentality, the same outlook, the same parrot-like cries. What the Cologne Gazette from its columns, the (God save the mark) press in and caricature. Here was organization with a vengeance, the of national thought, a series of records into a thousand different so that each might play the tune.
"You needn't worry about your German mentality," I told myself, "you've got it all here! You've only got to be a like the and you'll be as good a Hun as Hindenburg!"
A Continental waiter, they say, can one anything one to ask for at any hour of the day or night. I was about to put this to the test.
"Waiter," I said (of course, in German), "I want a bag, a handbag. Do you think you me one?"
"Does the want it now?" the man replied.
"This very minute," I answered.
"About that size?"—indicating Semlin's. "Yes, or smaller if you like: I am not particular."
"I will see what can be done."
In ten minutes the man was with a leather about a size smaller than Semlin's. It was not new and he me thirty (which is about fifty shillings) for it. I paid with a and him to boot, for I wanted a and not wait till the shops opened without missing the train for Germany.
I paid my bill and off to the Central Station through the dark with my two bags. The were six as I entered under the great of the station hall.
I to the booking-office, and a first-class ticket, single, to Berlin. One what may and I had to do the train went.
The was just opening. I purchased a sovereign's of books and magazines, English, French and German, and them into the I had at the café. Thus I to the station buffet.
There I set about a I had for the document which Semlin had from England in a place of safety, it be without difficulty, should anything to me. I no one in Holland save Dicky, and I not send him the document, for I did not trust the post. For the same I would not post the document home to my bank in England: besides, I one not register until eight o'clock, by which hour I to be well on my way into Germany.
No, my bag, with books and deposited at the station cloak-room, should be my safe. The security of station cloak-rooms as safe deposits has long been by and the like and this means of my document in safety to me to be than any other I think of.
So I into my and from the of it up a book at random. It was a German brochure: Gott England! by Prof. Dr. Hugo Bischoff, of the University of Göttingen. The of the thing to my of humour. "So be it!" I said. "The Professor's against my country shall have the of the document which is, apparently, of such value to his country!" And I the little case away the pages of the pamphlet, the among the books and the bag.
Seeing its the cloak-room receipt—I calculated—would, Semlin's document, no attention if, by any mischance, it into hands en route. I therefore did not to it to the post. Before taking my of books to the cloak-room I two letters. Both were to Ashcroft—Ashcroft of the Foreign Office, who got me my and permit to come to Rotterdam. Herbert Ashcroft and I were old friends. I the to his private house in London. The Postal Censor, I knew, though he always is after from countries, would old Herbert's alone.
The was brief. "Dear Herbert," I wrote, "would you mind looking after the until you from me again? Filthy weather here. Yours, D.O." This was to the cloak-room receipt. To the of an enclosure, it is always a good to send the under cover.
"Dear Herbert," I said in my second letter, "If you don't from me two months of this date the you will have already received, send someone, or, preferably, go and my at the cloak-room of the Rotterdam Central Station. I know how you always are. Therefore you will my for making this upon your time. Yours, D.O." And, by way of a clue, I added, enough: "Gott England!"
I at the of Herbert's on this that he should his in Downing Street and himself across the North Sea to my luggage. But he'd go all right. I my Herbert, and and conventional, but a most friend.
I called a at the entrance of the and him Semlin's and overcoat, him me a first-class in the Berlin train when it arrived. I would meet him on the platform. Then, at the cloak-room opposite, I gave in my of books, put the receipt in the and posted it in the letter-box the station. I out into the with the second and posted it in a letter-box let into the of a tobacconist's shop in a a away. By this I Herbert would the with the receipt the arrived.
Returning to the railway station I noticed a of shop which despite the early hour was already open. A Jew in his shirt-sleeves, his thumbs in his pockets, at the entrance in overcoats and and boots. I had no and it me that a of some might not be a to my wardrobe. Moreover, I that with the rain-coats must be at a premium in Germany.
So I the son of Shem into his dark and dirty shop and presently an green of rubber. It was a but I that I was a German and must choose my accordingly.
Outside the shop I nearly ran into a little man who was in the doorway. He was a wizened, old a dirty cap with a of gold. I him at once for one of those guides, tout, bully, that the railway of all great Continental cities.
"Want a guide, sir?" the man said in German.
I my and on. The man me. "Want a good, hotel, sir? Good, house.... Want a ..."
"Ach! Teufel!" I angrily. But the man persisted, along me and off his tout's in a wheezing, voice. I off the we came to, to be of the fellow, but in vain. Finally, I stopped and out a gulden.
"Take this and go away!" I said.
The old the coin aside.
"Danke, danke," he said nonchalantly, looking at the same time to right and left.
Then he said in a English voice, different from his of a moment before:
"You must be a dam' hand!"
But he didn't me, though I was. I said in German:
"What do you want with me? I don't you. If you me any more I shall call the police!"
Again he spoke in English and it was the voice of a well-bred Englishman that spoke:
"You're either a past master at the game or mad. Why! the whole station is after you! Yet you walked out of the and through the whole of them without a hair. No wonder they you!"
Again I answered in German:
"Ich nicht!"
But he on in English, without to notice my observation:
"Hang it all, man, you can't go into Germany a tie!"
My hand to my and the blood to my head. What a I was, after all! I had that I was my colours. I was with but also with a of relief. I I might trust this man. It would be a German agent who would notice a small detail like that.
Still I to to German: I would trust nobody.
But the had started his again. I saw two approaching. When they had passed, he said, this time in English:
"You're right to be with a like me, but I want to you. Why, I've been you all the morning. Lucky for you it was me and not one of the others...."
Still I was silent. The little man on:
"For the past half-hour they have been that station for you. How you managed to them I don't know that none of them to have a very clear idea of your appearance. You don't look very British, I you; but I your tie and then I the British officer all right.
"No, don't worry to tell me anything about yourself—it is none of my to know, any more than you will out anything about me. I know where you are going, for I you take your ticket; but you may as well that you have as much of into your train if you walk into the railway and up the stairs in the ordinary way as you have of across the frontier."
"But they can't stop me!" I said. "This isn't Germany...."
"Bah!" said the guide. "You will be jostled, there will be an altercation, a false charge, and you will miss your train! They will to the rest!
"Damn it, man," he on, "I know what I'm talking about. Here, come with me and I'll you. You have twenty minutes the train goes. Now start the German again!"
We the together for all the world like a "mug" in of one of those black-guard guides. As we approached the station the said in his German:
"Pay attention to me now. I shall you here. Go to the booking-office—the entrance is in the to the left of the station hall. Go into the first-class waiting-room and look out of the window that on to the station hall. There you will see some of the against you. There is a regular of guides—like me—drawn across the to the main-line platforms—unostentatiously, of course. If you look you will see of plain-clothes Huns, too...."
"Guides?" I said.
He cheerfully.
"Looks for me, doesn't it? But one results by being one of them. Oh! it's all right. In any case you've got to trust me now.
"See here! When you have satisfied that I'm in what I say, take a ticket and walk to No. 5. On that you will a train. Go to the end where the out of the station, where the engine would be on, and into the last first-class carriage. On no account move from there until you see me. Now then, I'll have that gulden!"
I gave him the coin. The old looked at it and his head, so I gave him another, he took off his cap, low and off.
In the waiting-room I out of the window on to the station hall. True enough, I saw one, two, four, six about the leading to the main-line platforms. There to be a of people in the and a number of the men that taste in dress, those of contour, by which one may the German in a crowd.
I now had no in the guide's to the letter. Platform No. 5 was as I from the long and I had no in into the last first-class unobserved. I sat by the window on the of the carriage.
Alongside it ran the panels and gold of a German restaurant car.
I looked at my watch. It was ten minutes to seven. There was no of my friend. I vaguely, too, what had of my porter. True, there was nothing of in Semlin's bag, but a with always more than one without.
Five minutes to seven! Still no word from the guide. The minutes away. By Jove! I was going to miss the train. But I sat in my corner. I had put my trust in this man. I would trust him to the last.
Suddenly his appeared in the window at my elbow. The door was open.
"Quick!" he in my ear, "follow me."
"My ..." I with one on the foot-board of the other train. At the same moment the train to move.
The pointed to the into which I had clambered.
"The ..." I from the open door, he had not me.
The pointed the again, then himself on the with a smile.
The next moment he had and I had not thanked him.
The Berlin train out of the station. Peering out of the carriage, I a of the waiter, Karl, the platform. With him was a swarthy, man who on a and as he ran. One of his feet, I see, was and the was his face.
I would have liked to my hand to the pair, but I out of of the platform.
Caution, caution, caution, must be my watchword.
