Part 8

It was now three o’clock in the morning. By the light of an electric torch Wenk gazed upon the corpse. There was a gaping wound from the neck down the back, and the body lay with its face to the earth. Thus the police had found Hull when their colleague, blinded with pepper and bleeding from a wound, whistled for help. The body lay motionless, curled up like the gnarled root of a tree. The blood which had flowed from its wounds shone like black marble under the searching light. Wenk was convulsed with horror at the mental images he sought to overcome. He tried to photograph the details of the scene upon his memory, getting the exact position of the corpse. He wrote down the number of the house, tried to ascertain whether all the doors and windows in the neighbourhood were closed, whether any footprints could be seen, or any objects connected with the crime found in the immediate vicinity, but nothing was to be discovered. Its perpetrators had escaped into the palace grounds, one of the policemen had told him, and at one bound they had disappeared. Wenk examined the walls; there, too, there was nothing to be learnt.

He sent a constable to fetch a car to remove the body, and ordered that nobody was to come into the street on any account. Those who tried to force their way in should be arrested, but people were to be treated with politeness, he said. He then drove to the hospital where the wounded men were lying.

He found Karstens unconscious, and the doctor informed him that he had had a severe wound in the back from a narrow and apparently four-edged dagger, and a blow from some blunt object had probably been aimed at his head. The constable had not been so severely handled, and his were mainly flesh-wounds. His shoulder and upper arm were bandaged, but he could scarcely open his eyes even yet.

He related his story thus:

“Just before 2 a.m. the deceased, with a lady and another gentleman, came out of the house which had been pointed out to me. In front of it a constable was standing, and that seemed odd, for I thought to myself, ‘Why is he standing there instead of being on his beat?’ He stood there for at least an hour; then I thought I would speak to him, but he said roughly, ‘What do _you_ want? Go away,’ and came threateningly towards me. I was just going to show him my number-plate when the door opened, and although it was dark I could recognize Herr von Hull. The constable pushed me away, and as I did not want to be noticed I moved aside, but I saw that Herr von Hull had a lady and gentleman with him. They went off quickly in the direction of the Ludwigstrasse, and the policeman and I were about three houses away in the other direction. Then he turned to the house again, saying to me, ‘Now you had better be off!’ I didn’t bother any more about him, but followed, at some distance, the lady and the two gentlemen. They turned out of the Türkenstrasse into the Gabelsbergerstrasse and disappeared from my sight. I hurried after them, but could not see them anywhere. They could not have got any further than the Jägerstrasse. Suddenly I heard cries; they were shrill and then stifled. The war had taught me that that was how men in fear of death cry out. Before I could even see anybody I whistled for help, and ran to the street as hard as I could, drawing my revolver.

“I hadn’t gone far when I was suddenly seized from behind. My eyes smarted terribly, and I felt a thrust in my shoulder. I wanted to pull the trigger, but my revolver was no longer in my hand and my arm hung quite limp. Then I thought, ‘I had better do as our major used to advise us--fall down and lie as if I were dead.’ So I fell down and someone sat on me, and shoved something at me, holding my mouth. There may have been two of them; I can’t tell, for I closed my eyes. They must have rushed at me from a doorway, and I was half insensible by that time. What happened after that I do not distinctly remember, but I heard footsteps running, and I was lifted up. It was another constable, and I quickly told him what had happened and he ran on into the street. Then a second one came running up. ‘Police!’ I shouted to him. ‘Yes,’ he called back; ‘what is the matter?’ ‘Run round the corner, quick!’ I told him.

“I forced myself to rise, and then found I was not so badly wounded after all, though I couldn’t open my eyes. They had thrown pepper at them. I groped my way round the corner, but I could not see anything. It was the noise that guided me to the spot. I heard someone speaking, and a woman’s voice answering. ‘What is the matter?’ I said, and a voice answered, ‘He said we were to take the female into custody.’ ‘Who are you?’ I asked the woman, and she answered, ‘I am an actress, the friend of Herr Hull. What do you want with me?’ I said, ‘If the gentleman said so, arrest her!’ She protested, and said she wanted to speak to Dr. Wenk, the State agent, at once, but the constable said she could do that later. Then she tried to run away, and there was a good deal of confusion and bother, and finally the constable had to handcuff her, she was so defiant, and I heard her call out ‘George.’ So I told them to arrest her, and I don’t know what happened after that, for I fainted, and when I came to again I was in the ambulance. I am badly wounded. Will your honour please tell me the truth: am I going to die?”

Then the doctor laughed in his face.

“No, please, I want his honour to tell me. It’s the doctor’s job to tell people they are not going to die.”

“But, my good Voss, how can you imagine you are going to die? You have some flesh-wounds and some nasty bumps, but a man like you doesn’t die of those things!”

“Indeed, your honour, I have done my duty!” said the injured man. His voice began to falter; then the tension relaxed and he began to weep quietly and unrestrainedly. “I know ... no more.... I have ... done ... my duty!” he stammered.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” said Wenk reassuringly. “He who stakes his life upon it certainly does his duty, for no one can offer anything he values more! But now, Voss, I want you to promise me something, and shake hands upon it. You won’t tell anyone else what you have seen or gone through this night ... and I beg the same thing of you, doctor. A great deal depends upon it, for the public at large. I beg you to lay this very much to heart. It is not the pursuit of one crime, but of a generation of crime.”

From the constable who had been first on the spot Wenk learnt that he had seen several figures near the wall of the park, but darkness prevented his counting their number, nor could he describe them. He was stopped by one of the gentlemen, who tried to stand up and then clutched hold of him, saying two or three times over, “Arrest the woman--arrest the woman.”

“Then at last he fell back and let me go,” went on the man. “Then I could run a few steps and I saw those figures close to the wall going round the park, but when I reached it, there was no one there. They must have had accomplices on the other side of the wall. I wanted to go after them, but I couldn’t manage it; it was far too high to climb, so I came back to the spot.”

“And the woman?” asked Wenk. “What about her?”

“I had the impression....”

“Now, Stamm, I don’t want to hear your _impressions_--I only want to know what you saw with your eyes and heard with your ears. You will be scrupulously exact, won’t you?”

“Yes, indeed, your honour. When I came back, one of our men was holding the woman fast. I said to him, ‘Arrest her; the gentleman there said so. Arrest her at all costs! Hold her fast, don’t let her escape!’ We were all a bit excited, and she shouted out that she wanted to see Herr von Wenk, and no one was going to arrest _her_. She made a good deal of resistance, sir, and finally we had to tie her hands. There were only two of us, and we had to help the wounded and our own colleague. We did not know in the least what had happened, for we had only just....”

“_We?_ Tell me only what you yourself have seen.”

“Then I began to try and find out what had happened. There was a man lying on the ground bathed in blood. He seemed to be dead, for he was quite still. The other was groaning. Then a third constable came up, and we sent him to telephone for the ambulance and make a report to the Criminal Division and let your honour know. That was what Voss had told us to do first of all.”

“What was the woman doing all this time?”

“The second of our men took her to the guard-room.”

“Don’t go on with your story, Stamm, till I have spoken to him. What is his name? Keep yourself in readiness to report again; do you hear? And remember, not a word of this outside the official circle--not even to your wife. Give me your word of honour!”

“Yes, indeed, sir. The other man’s name is Wasserschmidt.”

Wasserschmidt duly appeared.

“You arrested a woman to-night who was present when the two gentlemen were attacked,” said Wenk. “Why did you do that?”

“I did it because constable Stamm said that one of the gentlemen, before he became insensible, called out to him to do so, and my colleague Voss gave me the order too.”

At this moment the telephone rang in the bureau of the Criminal Investigation Department, where Wenk was conducting these inquiries.

“Who is speaking?” he asked.

“This is the night editor’s office of the Central News Agency. We have just been informed of a murder....”

“One moment, please,” said Wenk angrily. “Who gave you that information?”

“I can tell you that without betraying any editorial secrets, for it was given anonymously, so to speak. Our night-bell rang, and as I went to the window I saw a man going away. When I opened it and asked what was the matter, he called out, ‘Look in the letter-box!’ Then I went down and found a letter in the box.”

“Can you read me what was in the letter? The State agent for prosecutions is speaking!”

“Yes, certainly, sir, one moment. The letter runs: ‘Edgar Hull, Esquire, was attacked and murdered in the Jägerstrasse in the early hours of this morning. The criminals have escaped. It appears to have been an act of revenge, for the murdered man frequented gambling circles.’ That’s all there is.”

“Does anybody in the newspaper staff know about this letter?”

“No.”

“Can you bring this letter to me yourself immediately? I will send a Service car for you.”

“But, sir, that would be a very difficult matter. I am alone here, and I must complete the Press matter.”

“What is your name?”

“Grube.”

“Well, Herr Grube, there’s no difficulty in the matter, when I tell you very decidedly that your coming here is of the utmost importance, far and away more important than that to-morrow morning every Tom, Dick and Harry should be able to discuss such a piece of news while he eats his breakfast.”

“But my duty is ...” he began, but Wenk interrupted him.

“Don’t take it ill that my time won’t permit of my saying any more now, save that the police car is on its way to bring you here. The constable is furnished with the necessary authority. Arrange your Press matter so that the sheet can be printed without the information you have just given me about a murder. Au revoir, Herr Grube. Ring off, please.”

Wenk sent off the car immediately.

“Well, now, Wasserschmidt, to continue. The lady offered resistance. How did she do that?”

“She ran a few paces from me towards the wall of the Wittelsbach Palace, to which the criminals had hurried, and then called out, ‘George.’”

“You heard that yourself?”

“Yes, quite distinctly, and she pronounced the name ‘Georsh.’ And as she began to run towards the wall too, I did not wait any longer, but I tied her hands together.”

“And what did she do then?”

“Then she became quieter, and let us take her away. As we were going, she said again, ‘I shall certainly be able to speak to Herr von Wenk, shall I not?’ ‘Well, you will have to wait till after he has had his breakfast,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I could telephone to him?’ but I said that wasn’t very likely.”

“And then later? Where is the lady now?”

“Still at the guard-room. She spoke quite calmly and said, ‘You have made a very serious mistake, my good man; but I hope to be able to set you right with Herr Wenk, for, after all, you are only doing what you conceive to be your duty. I was with the gentleman who has been attacked, and the State Attorney was there too, but he went home a little earlier, or else he would have been in it as well.’ ‘Let us wait and see!’ was all I said to that.”

“Did you happen to tell her _why_ you had arrested her?”

“No, not a word.”

“That’s right. Wait in the next room.”

Wenk interviewed others, and finally the assistant-editor arrived. He protested loudly against this high-handed action of the authorities, and said that his newspaper....

“If it is the duty of your newspaper to serve its readers up the latest scandal, whether it be a murder or the unlucky ending of a love-affair, merely because it is a scandal, in as hasty and disconnected a fashion as it was reported to you ... you would be right to protest. But you have no right to hinder the authorities whose duty it is to deal with infinitely more important matters so that you may satisfy fools with a thirst for gossip.”

“But,” stammered the editor, in an excited tone, “but you are trying to stifle the Press. We are not living under the old system, you know. The Republic will....”

“I have no time to bother about what the Republic will do. Be so good as to give me the letter you telephoned me about!”

“I am sorry,” said the editor, with a confident and self-satisfied air. “These are Press secrets.”

“Pardon my saying so, editor, but you really are very foolish. I respect any Press secrets which protect the interests of the community, but your refusal to give me this letter only injures them. Before I take it from you by force (an action which would lay you open to a penalty for resisting the law), I will tell you that this letter is the only piece of evidence we have at present of an unusually serious crime. Perhaps then you will become more reasonable, and not entrench yourself behind the plea of your professional duty, which, as I have already stated, I do recognize, though I place it far below the interests which I represent.”

Grube felt uncertain how to act. Finally he brought out the document, saying, “I deliver it under protest, and....”

“Did you see anything of the man who brought it? Could you recognize him?”

“There was very little light on the street from my window. I could only see that he was well dressed, and he certainly wore an opera hat. A little while after he had disappeared from sight, I heard a car drive off in the direction he took on leaving our office, and I imagine it was his.”

“Herr Grube, you will be so kind as to leave this letter in my hands. You will be an important witness in one of the most notable criminal prosecutions of recent years. I beg you, upon your honour, to preserve absolute silence about this letter and everything connected with it.”

Grube, under the spell of the horror which had seized upon him, now became more pliable, and grew as eager about the affair as he had previously been obdurate. He handed over the document, exclaiming, “There it is then! I am quite at your service. That is a very different matter!”

“My car will take you back to your office again. Please leave word that I am anxious to see the editor-in-chief as soon as he is able to attend upon me.”

The assistant-editor withdrew.

VIII

Wenk remained alone, inwardly cool. He had been able to suppress the horror and dread which the crime had excited in his sensitive and sympathetic soul. He knew the reason underlying this murder. It was not revenge, but something far more dangerous and deadly. It was terrorization! That was revealed to him by the letter to the news agency, designed to give information about the murder other than the police reports. It was the terrorizing of all who felt themselves victims of that fair-bearded stranger who had appeared among them. How much this gambler must have at stake, he thought, that he could thus personally announce his crime, to give the affair the turn he wanted it to have! How many people were in his pay that he was able to carry out his criminal deeds in this fashion? What sort of people were they, and what was the example such conduct would afford to those who were still hovering undecidedly between good and evil? How many adherents might not the announcement of this deed yet secure for him?

Hull had met his fate because he had revealed to the authorities, in the person of Wenk, the history of the I O U, and because the pseudo Herr Balling desired thus to give an example of what would occur to those who stood in his way. Possibly, even probably, the attack had also been directed at himself, and he had only escaped because his indignation had driven him from the place.

Now perhaps it would be impossible, for strategical reasons, to close down the “Go-ahead” Institute.... Like so many similar places, it might serve as a trap.

“And what about Cara Carozza?” he said to himself. “Shall I be able to get her to confess for whom she was acting as a decoy? What can she confess, and whose name would she reveal? Even if a name and possibly an address be furnished me, do I know the man’s secrets, and what precautions he has taken against me? No, I will not go to see this girl. I will leave her in custody and let her wait.... Then she will realize that there’s trouble ahead of her. She is weak and vicious; perhaps she will give in of her own accord.”

Finally, however, Wenk decided otherwise. He would take the exactly opposite course. He would lull her suspicions by a friendly and sympathetic bearing. She was crafty, but she belonged to the theatrical world, and by his assumed friendliness and sympathy with her in the circumstances leading to her arrest he might make her more ready to confide in him. He therefore went at once to the guard-room, where he found her seated in a small compartment. Wenk hastened towards her.

“But, my dear young lady,” he exclaimed, “how came you here? What have they been doing to you? They have just rung up to tell me what has happened. What a good thing you thought of me!”

“Oh, Herr Wenk, you come as an angel of light to me in my dungeon. Let us get away from this place at once! Don’t lose an instant! I am stifling here. I can’t breathe in these horrible surroundings.” She hastened towards the door.

“Ah, but now I must prepare you for a disappointment, which is unavoidable. You see, my dear young lady, we live under the State, and every State has supreme power. It appoints officials, each of whom carries on his own peculiar office, and they cannot encroach upon the domains of others. The State has appointed me one of its Attorneys, but I am only there to prosecute offenders, not to set innocent people free.”

“Then what’s to happen to me?” said Cara, suddenly hardening her attitude.

Her tone warned Wenk, and he came at once to the point:

“Your case does not come under my jurisdiction first of all, but that of the court of inquiry, and you are bound to undergo an examination there. It is troublesome, no doubt, but you must blame the circumstances for that.”

“And what about your part in it?” asked the girl.

“Mine? I can do nothing but tell the examining counsel that we are old acquaintances, and that I do not think you capable of taking any part in such a crime.”

“Then why did you come here? You are not the examining counsel.”

Wenk realized then that she had seen through his ruse, and he knew, too, that she had escaped the snare, but at the same time he was convinced that she was guilty.

“I came here on account of a minor circumstance in which I can help you,” he said quickly. “I understand that you resisted the constables?”

“What woman would allow herself to be attacked by coarse brutes of constables without resisting?”

“Yes, of course; it was the circumstances which were to blame for your behaving unreflectingly and forcing them to do their duty.”

“I am well known as an artiste. My name ought to have been enough for them!”

“Did you give the constables your name?”

“Certainly I did, straight away!”

“It is strange that they should not have told me that. They mentioned another name that you had called out!”

Then Wenk observed that Cara threw a hasty and searching glance, full of hate, upon him. She looked away again at once, and drummed with her fingers on her knee.

“They said another name, did they? That’s curious, for my own name is well enough known, and thought enough of. What might this other strange name have been?”

“The constable said it was George.”

Her face showed no change when Wenk said that.

“He couldn’t have heard properly, for my name, as you know, isn’t George,” she said, with an air of indifference.

“But a second constable says he heard you give the same name. It really _was_ George!”

“How strange!” said Cara, after a pause for reflection. “My husband’s name was George. Could I, in my excitement, have called....”

“Ah, now everything is perfectly clear. That is quite comprehensible, but, of course, nobody knew you had been married?”

“I _am_ married!”

“You still are; oh, that’s something different. Shall I send word to your husband? But perhaps you no longer hold any intercourse with him?”

“Indeed I do! His address is 234, Eschenheimerstrasse, Frankfurt-am-Main.... His name is George Strümpfli.”

“This will be painful news for him. Are you not afraid that there may be some difficulty when he hears your name connected with the circumstance of Hull’s murder?”