Part 15

Then Wenk arranged that two motor-boats should be stationed on the lake. They were made to appear as if they were Customs’ official boats, and were provided with searchlights.

Another human life had been sacrificed, but this fresh murder had revealed something more far-reaching and dangerous than had yet been suspected. It was certain that the gang was taking part in this profiteering movement also, and it became clear that its leader had created an entire yet invisible State to carry on his purposes and give effect to the deeds his will imposed on his fellows.

Pesch left a wife and five children, and since the family breadwinner was gone, they were in absolute danger of starving. Then Wenk sought out Edgar Hull’s father, to obtain help for them, and the idea suddenly occurred to him, “Why not establish an educational institution, a real home-school for the children of criminals, taking them in under an assumed name? Perhaps that would be a good way to lay out your money. The children, who so often inherit the parents’ characteristics, could be watched over and perhaps influenced for good in their early years. If it were not possible to eradicate their vices, at least they could be kept apart from their fellows and removed before they have a chance of harming them. In this way a large proportion of the criminal class might be rendered harmless and many people would be saved....”

“I will do it,” said Hull, “and I am grateful to you for the suggestion.”

* * * * *

The next evening Wenk was walking from the Marstall to the Maximilianstrasse, and as he passed the Four Seasons Hall he thought he saw someone he knew in the crowd in front of him struggling to gain an entrance; but he could not recall who it was, and went straight ahead. As he walked on he strove to remember whose back and shoulders it was that had seemed so familiar, but he could not place the individual. Soon afterwards he came to an advertisement window in which the scheme of a popular lottery was displayed. The large letters could be seen through the dusty pane, and the words “Lucky Chance” stood out. These words at once gave Wenk the clue he had been seeking. The back he had noticed belonged to the sandy-bearded gambler.

He was astounded at the discovery. He had been seeking this man for many days and nights all over Germany, and here he was, and he had passed so close by him that he could have touched him on the shoulder. He turned round at once, went back to the hall and at the entrance he read a notice stating that Dr. Mabuse was giving a lecture, with experiments, there that evening.

He immediately ordered one of the constables standing outside to fetch six plain-clothes men and tell them to close all the exits without exciting any attention, and when the detectives were placed, he entered the hall. It was an easy one to search, and he went from row to row, while the lecturer was engaged in preparing his experiments. Wenk took up a position here and there, and looked at the folks one after another. But nowhere did he find the owner of the back which was so impressed on his mind.

He noticed some of his acquaintance. There was Privy Councillor Wendel sitting in the front row, and a legal colleague of his was there with his wife and grown-up daughter, but he behaved as if he saw nobody and continued his eager search. It was all in vain, however. Then he took a sudden resolve, went outside again, and gave the detectives the following orders. All the exits were to be locked except one. Two detectives were to enter the hall, and one of them was to go on to the platform at once and request the audience to leave the hall quietly, one by one. Both were to see that there was no one left behind. The four others were to stand at the folding doors and let the people pass through singly, only one half of the door being opened.

Wenk himself would stand by the door, and if he gave any order for arrest, two of the detectives would at once take the man aside and handcuff him. The two others would then only have to take care that no one got near the man arrested. All were to have their service revolvers ready for use. There was great excitement in the hall when the announcement was made, and several cries of disapproval of the order were heard. The detective strove to pacify the disappointed audience.

Mabuse’s first thought, when he heard the Secret Service agent’s announcement, was a doubt whether he should have ventured on this public appearance, but he soon dismissed the troublesome idea. Yes, he had been right, for it provided him, in concentrated form, with the nourishment upon which his mind battened. With such hypnotic powers as he possessed he must always be in relation with a larger and unknown public. To feel his power over the narrow circle to which his professional duties bound him, the members of which were known to him, was not enough for his insatiable ambition. His sphere must know no limits, and with these weird and mysterious gifts of his he could exploit the triviality and credulity of his fellows and at the same time give full play to his hatred and his lust for domination.

Upon such a stage as this he felt as if born anew. It was here that he had inaugurated his reign of power, when the war sent him from his South Sea plantations back to his home, a ruined man, and this domination of his he could not renounce. While these thoughts were passing through his mind he went to the detective and asked what had happened. “You must inquire of the State Attorney, sir,” said the man. “Dr. von Wenk is just outside.”

Mabuse turned pale and walked away, going rapidly towards the Privy Councillor, whom he saw still sitting in the front row. As he went, he felt in his pocket to make sure that his revolver was safe, and sensations of hatred and defiance went through his whole body, fastening as it were like a brand upon his mental image of Wenk.

“First of all you, and then ...” he said to himself, but he was already smiling in the Councillor’s face.

“Your hypnotic powers,” said the latter, “seem to be giving the State Attorney some trouble!”

“Is that Dr. Wenk?” said Mabuse, drawing back as if astonished.

“I saw him just now going from seat to seat and fixing an eagle eye on everybody here, as if to pierce through coat, waistcoat and shirt to reach a guilt-burdened conscience. He does not seem to have found his man, however.”

Mabuse’s breast heaved, inflated at the thought of his success. He felt like a horse in sight of its manger after a long and weary road. Although he clearly understood what the words implied, he nevertheless asked the Councillor, “How do you know that?”

“It is quite simple, for if he had found his man, he would have let one of the detectives take him out without disturbing your lecture.”

“That is true,” said Mabuse. “Let us go.”

He pressed towards the door, taking the Councillor with him. He was thoroughly on the alert, looking behind him to see that he did not lose touch with Wendel, and also ahead, where lay the danger he wished to avoid. Whenever any movement threatened to separate him from the elderly savant, he used all the cunning at his command to get near him again. It was above all essential not to leave the hall exposed to Wenk’s gaze as a solitary individual. The Councillor, who was old and well known, must help him to throw the hound off the scent. He was aged, however, and could not hurry; but Mabuse dared not be the last one to leave, closely eyed as he would be by a disappointed man who had not found the quarry he sought. There were still some others behind him, to whose party he might attach himself, so that he need not be the last.

One thing was certain. It was he, and none other, whom the State Attorney was seeking, but Wenk did not know that Mabuse was his quarry, or he would have had him arrested on the platform. How had he got upon the track? Was it a mere guess that had started him off? Was there treachery in it? No; _he_ would never be betrayed. Could Wenk have recognized him, one of those evenings at the gaming-table? No; it was impossible, his disguises were too perfect for that, so....

Then a hand touched his, and Mabuse looked into Spoerri’s inquiring eyes, and saw beside him another man of his bodyguard, and he immediately looked away again unconcernedly. Spoerri and his accomplice were pressing towards the exit in front of him. Mabuse went on thinking, and came to the conclusion that mere chance had put Wenk on this track, some faint resemblance or recollection, some movement or action.... In any case, Wenk must see as little of him as possible, and since his back would be exposed to him longer than any other part, he put his arms through the sleeves of his overcoat and thus altered his appearance.

And now he had reached the exit with the Privy Councillor. He quickly pushed him in front, following closely on his heels. At the moment when Wendel stepped to the door, Wenk was ordering a detective to tell two men who were lingering on the stairs to move on. Mabuse heard the man say, “Shall I arrest them?” Then he looked ahead and saw that the order referred to Spoerri and his subordinate. Mabuse sought to catch his eye; he took his pocket-handkerchief out with a flourish and blew his nose loudly. Spoerri saw it and understood, and at once withdrew with his companion.

Mabuse saw Wenk shaking hands with the Councillor. Then it was his turn to come forward, and Wendel introduced “Dr. Mabuse.” Without taking his eyes off the door, through which the light from the hall was now streaming, Wenk shook hands with Mabuse, saying courteously, “You won’t be annoyed with me for carrying out my duty, I hope, Doctor?”

Mabuse answered with affected friendliness, his hand on the revolver in his pocket, “Certainly not; I must naturally take the second place when it is a question of the good of the community, whom you are endeavouring to rid of a criminal.”

He had already passed on. Wenk nodded to him, but did not look round again, as his gaze was still fastened on the door.

The Privy Councillor took Mabuse’s arm going downstairs. Mabuse accompanied him to the gentlemen’s cloakroom and then took his leave. One of his cars was waiting in the Maximilianstrasse, and right and left of him at the entrance to the _foyer_ his people were standing in readiness for anything that might happen. Spoerri had taken up his position at the main door of the hall, to keep watch upon the stairs; then he went out behind Mabuse, and the others, who were in small detached groups, always ready to close up at a word, followed them. It was not until Mabuse had taken his seat in the car and driven off that they dispersed, each going a separate way.

Driving homeward, Mabuse reflected that he had committed one act of folly. He ought at any rate to have asked when he would be allowed to give his experiments. This fact depressed him, and he felt that he had failed in some way. He would never have done anything so foolish formerly, and the idea occurred to him that perhaps his power was on the decline, and that it was now time for Citopomar.

Then suddenly he shouted aloud, “No! this is due to that woman! Wenk wants to hang me, the woman makes me feel old, and she is delivering me over to the gallows.” Why should this woman, young and beautiful as she was, who had abandoned herself to her lot with despairing fatalism, make him feel old? Her abandonment of herself was like wine to him, and this idea started another train of thought. He was in conflict with himself. There was no enjoyment in the thought that he had escaped a great danger, and in the midst of his uneasy reflections he had a sudden breathless conviction that she made him feel old because he loved her. Then he felt a hatred of himself, gathering into one mighty heap all the fierce and bitter hatred he had cherished for others and pouring it out on himself. So strongly did he suffer from the burden of these chaotic feelings that his brain grew giddy. But now he had reached his house.

All the wrinkles in his face were deepened and intensified, but it was his eyes that looked most dreadful, and the Countess trembled as he entered her room. No longer were they of the steely grey of an agate, but rather seemed shot with rays of copper colour.

“What has happened?” she asked.

Then he told her something quite different from that which he had meant to tell her.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, and his tone was one of frenzied delirium. “I am a werwolf; I suck man’s blood. Every day my hatred burns up all the blood in my veins, and every night I fill them again by sucking the blood of some human being. If men caught me, they would tear me into little bits. I will bite through your white throat, you tormenting witch!”

The Countess started as if stung, and, mad with pain and torture, cried aloud, “Kill me then! What could be better than death?”

“But I love you!” cried the voice of the man beside her, who seemed to be possessed by devils.

The woman hid her face in her hands. It was the first time she had heard such a confession from that imperious mouth, and it stirred her to the depths of her nature. Her free spirit had been snatched from the world and confined in a fortress whence there was no escape. Her life was a dead thing, but the blood within her raged in dread and mysterious tumult, inflamed and excited by the power of this man. Her dead soul was afire, and there was nothing left to consume: whence then came this flame?

Mabuse left the Countess without saying another word. “I have told her enough,” he said to himself. He threw himself down on his bed, but could not sleep. He felt as if something new had come into his life, till then so steady and changeless, as if the danger which he had always been able to grasp and bring to nought had eluded him and were sinking into the icy black gulf in whose depths his life and actions were grounded. For hours he tried to grapple with this new force and subordinate it to his will, but evermore it seemed to evade him.

Then he returned to the Countess, lying fully dressed and sleepless on her bed, and he said, “We must talk matters out. Our fates are entwined, and we must go through life together. From some source or other of my existence my blood has received something which revolts against a peaceful and well-ordered life, and will not permit to others a power above its own. Thus it is that I have become, as it were, the chief of a robber horde. I have known but two states: the desire to dominate and the necessity to hate! But now you have come upon the scene. At first I thought that your spirit would be consumed in the twin flames that inspire mine, but it is not so. Hundreds have been consumed by them, but you seem to feed upon them, and they nourish you. When I am intoxicated, not forgetting my hatred, but putting it on one side for the time being, because there are more beautiful things, I often name to you one name--Citopomar. Citopomar is not the outcome of a disordered fancy, the result of a fit of intoxication. It is a virgin forest in Brazil, far in the interior. It is being cultivated for me. All the money I can wring from this petty community of miserable wretches on this side of the world is being employed there. There is my country, the land in which I shall end my days. First of all, I thought of myself there with my harem. Now I know it is there I shall be with _you_. It is a forty days’ journey to the nearest human dwelling, and the human beings there could not endure life here, but they cannot be reached, for the Botocudos would not let anyone pass. It is even possible that my agents, who have been carrying out my plans, may have deceived me, and that when we arrive there we may find there is no kingdom of Citopomar. But no one can deceive me about _you_!

“My professional life here has extended to ever-widening circles, and I could live a good deal longer under the protection of the State and in well-ordered society. To-day, however, I had proof that folks are on my track, and henceforth I must act cautiously. A ship is being built for me in Genoa. I do not travel by strange ships, but sail under my own flag. The ship is to be ready on the 1st of June, and on that night we will embark. Between this and then, however, there is nearly two months to pass. I cannot rest, and until the very night of our departure I shall still be a robber chief.

“We will be wary. You must go to another house. It is quite as well guarded as this one, but if they should discover this one, they will catch you. I am probably about to leave the place, and at midnight to-morrow you will depart. Spoerri will take you to the new home.”

As incapable of resistance as of mental participation in his schemes, consumed in the devouring flames of this man’s all-powerful domination, the Countess endured his conversation and took his orders. Her fate lay in his hands.

XVI

At nine o’clock next morning Mabuse was at Count Told’s villa. As he was now endeavouring to hold himself ready for flight at any moment, he wanted to bring this matter of the Count to an end.

He had desired him to drink, and for some days now Told had been drinking, in passionate abandonment. Mabuse looked at him in silence. When Told was intoxicated he said to him, “You are a person without the slightest power of resistance. Where is your razor?”

In a thick voice Told answered that it was on the washstand.

“Is it sharp?” said Mabuse with a peculiar intonation. “Sharp enough?” he repeated with an emphasis so marked that it seemed as if he wanted to hammer an idea into the Count’s head.

Mabuse took it up, seized a sheet of paper and made a sharp clean cut in it. Then he said threateningly, “Yes, it is sharp enough.” Thereupon he laid the razor aside, but did not return it to its case. He called the servant in, saying to him, “The Count’s condition is not so good as it was. He is drinking brandy with his Tokay. I have no objection to a little light Burgundy, but these strong spirits are not to be allowed. You must take away what is left in the bottle. Your master will ... now ... go ... to sleep!” He uttered the last words in a long-drawn-out, menacing tone. Then he went out of the room in front of the footman, and left the house.

Half an hour later, Count Told, not knowing what he was doing, cut his throat from ear to ear. He had a feeling as if something in his throat were preventing him from enjoying some great happiness, and he wanted to remove the hindrance.

At two o’clock a message came from Mabuse to ask how the Count was getting on. The footman said he was asleep, but he would go and look at him to make sure. Then he found him bathed in blood, where he had fallen from his arm-chair to the ground, his body now cold in death. The doctor’s messenger came into the room, looked at the corpse, and went back to report to his master.

The man-servant did not know what to do. Since none of the Count’s relatives were in the neighbourhood and he did not know the Countess’s address, he felt he must inform the police first of all. But then, again, he was not sure which was the right office to go to to give such information, and it occurred to him that the State Attorney, Herr von Wenk, was an acquaintance of his master’s and had asked after him recently, so he drove to Munich, sought out the lawyer, and told his story.

“Was the Count at home then all the time?” asked Wenk.

“Yes, sir, all the time.”

“Then why did you tell me on the telephone that the Count had gone on a journey?”

“The doctor told me that on account of my master’s state no one was to be allowed to see him, and I must tell anybody who inquired that he had gone away. My master saw nobody but his doctor.”

“What was the doctor’s name?”

“I never heard his name, sir. I don’t know it.”

Then Wenk remembered that Privy Councillor Wendel had given him a letter to Dr. Mabuse, and that the Count had used Wenk’s own telephone to make an appointment with this doctor.

Wenk trembled as, struck by the horror of a strange suspicion, he described to the footman the figure of Dr. Mabuse as he had seen it recently at the Four Seasons Hall. He spoke of him as a tall man, stooping slightly, without beard or moustache, with a broad face and big nose and large grey eyes. When the man said, “Yes, he looked exactly like that,” Wenk grew pale as death. In a moment all the disconnected impressions, hazy ideas, vague recollections, half-defined thoughts and images which had been partially obliterated, but not altogether lost, gathered together in his mind. When Wenk had the hall emptied, why had Dr. Mabuse not asked the reason for this measure? Why had he not inquired whether he could continue his experiments at another time? Why had Wenk, who had seen a man whose back he had recognized go into the hall, not found him again inside? Why had the two men who would not obey the detective’s order to move on, suddenly done as they were told immediately Mabuse appeared? Why had Mabuse’s eyes, in the brief moment he had looked into them, affected him so powerfully, as if they sought to read something that lay hidden in his very soul and was now almost forgotten?

He dismissed Count Told’s servant, and then tried to find Dr. Mabuse’s number in the telephone book, but it was not given there. Yet Mabuse had a telephone, for the Count had rung him up from this very house. The Privy Councillor knew the number.