Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 4 – Clare · Verses Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 4Chapter 4
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 4
Chapter 4
ClareEnglish
Hull departed, and Wenk, alone with the impressions which the evening’s experiences had left on his mind, asked himself, “Why did the fair unknown try to get away so secretly? Have I made another mistake? Has my helping her in her flight placed a weapon in the hand which would strike at me and my work?”
His agitation increased, but he dismissed his doubts of the lady. No, he felt he could rely upon her. And now the realization of the connection between Hull and the gambler, and all the other stories about the latter, set his mind working in a fresh direction, and other ideas began to develop. He seemed to hear the beating of the wings of some new and mighty force that was invading his life. Conflicts were going on in his physical nature, his phantasy, his nervous energy and endurance. His knowledge of men and his dominion over them were being put to the test. Thinking fiercely, he smoked cigar after cigar, and clouds of smoke surrounded him. It was spring-time, storm, sunshine, and again storm, in his blood. His muscles were engaged in an imaginary and heroic conflict with mysterious and mighty giants who were seeking to strangle his fellow-men. He had seized one of them by the false reddish beard which he had assumed, in semblance of humanity.
From the town, lapped in slumber, it seemed as if the spirit of the age rushed into his room--an age fraught with dangers, demands, and tension of all kinds. It demanded men--demanded of all men all their ambition, self-discipline, intelligence, selflessness ... selflessness. It should take him! There he was, free alike from arrogance and from indolence! Might there not be, he asked himself in his ecstatic monologue, a new democracy which should redeem the past? Was that the goal towards which the present gloom was leading mankind? Was he rising on the stormy wave? He would no longer drift along, striving to help his country as a mere idealist. No, he would stand firm on his feet; struggle, contest, but not submit! Freed from thoughts of self, he would expend the last drop of his blood to become what he had learned to be; he would yield all he had to give, to the very last red drop.
It was not his career that was at stake, but that which all men have in common, both in conflict with each other and in helping one another. It was the surge of humanity in which mortals, for good or ill, were engulfed in a gloom which none could dominate and subdue. In that night of reflection the lawyer saw the criminal no longer as a being of an inferior order. He envisaged him as a man whose pulses raced madly along, his senses stirred by the powers of hell; a man whose lusts and appetites, demon-fed, should overreach themselves and be brought to nought, and he, Wenk, should save and deliver him. The fighter should gain the ascendancy over his adversary.
In imagination Wenk was now struggling with the blond stranger, and in him he had a powerful opponent. He suspected even more than he already knew. If he could relieve mankind of him, he would have accomplished something by which he could advance further.
The song which Wenk’s heart had been singing for the last two hours suddenly seemed to be familiar to him, and in astonishment he realized that the state to which he had now come had been foreshadowed in his boyhood’s days, even before his university career, his military training, and his entry into law, when as yet no idea of the justification of humanity had fired his blood. Thinking over his lonely bachelor existence, without any womanly influence, he felt a strange, sad yearning for the father who had died long before.
The next day Wenk asked Hull to procure for him a list of all the secret gambling-dens, the addresses of which might be obtained with the help of Cara, who was au courant of such matters. He made Hull promise, however, that he would not speak to the girl of himself in this connection.
Wenk visited these places evening by evening. He went disguised as a rich old gentleman from the provinces. He had chosen this disguise, first of all, because he had an excellent example of it in an elderly uncle whom he merely had to copy. The old gentleman gave the impression that he was thoroughly enjoying all his experiences of the great city.
Wenk had some accomplices among Karstens’ acquaintances. He begged them to make it widely known that he, the “country cousin,” was a man of fabulous wealth, which when once settled down, he intended to use to the full. He thought that thus he might entice the gambler from Schramm’s and others bent on plunder, that his wealth would be the candle to these night moths. At times he played carelessly for half an hour, adapting himself to the character of the game; then he would win considerable sums, only to lose them again next time. With all this he never lost sight of his own affairs or his neighbours’, and during the game his brain was working busily with a keenness which brought its own satisfaction.
One evening during the second week in which he was pursuing this course, he came to a gaming-house in the centre of the city which, from the style of its habitués, who appeared more downright than in some of the other places, seemed to promise him something out of the common. There he saw an old gentleman sitting at the card-table, his attention being drawn to him on account of his horn spectacles. These were of unusual size. The old gentleman was addressed as Professor. When he took his cards in his hand, he removed his horn spectacles, exchanging them for eyeglasses of an uncommon shape.
Then Wenk noticed that the spectacles now lying on the table were not the usual type of modern horn spectacles, but were of tortoiseshell, very artistically designed. The old gentleman slipped them into a large shagreen case, dotted over with green points. All his movements were very leisurely, so that Wenk had ample time for his observations. “Those are Chinese spectacles,” he thought to himself, recalling his own journey to China, which he had made before the war. The recollection surged up so powerfully that he uttered aloud what he had really only intended to say to himself.
The Professor, who sat opposite him, nodded to him and said in a firm voice, which he had not expected to hear from so aged a mouth, “They are from Tsi-nan-fu!”
He repeated the name, stressing it and separating the syllables, “Tsi-nan-fu.” It was as if the name had a rhythm and recollection behind it which affected him strongly, and which he enjoyed in the mere repetition of the syllables. He looked across at Wenk, as if his eyes in their large glasses were sending him a challenge. Wenk at once felt some strange connection with the old Professor.
“Tsi-nan-fu,” said the harsh voice again, as if with special meaning; indeed, as if he wanted to hurl the three syllables at something, some invisible goal behind Wenk--to reach, three times over, an invisible point in the obscurity straight above his head beyond the circle of electric light.
Wenk involuntarily raised his hand to the back of his head and turned round. Was he seeking the spot towards which the three syllables were projected, and had they reached their goal? When he looked round he observed that behind his neighbour at the gaming-table sat the lady whose mysterious flight from Schramm’s he had assisted. It seemed as if she were regarding him mockingly, and he did not know what course to pursue with regard to her, but at that moment he felt that cards were being dealt to him, and he turned again to the table to take them up. As he did so he began to feel sleepy, and felt dimly that the staring eyes of the Professor were somehow responsible for this. He forgot the beautiful unknown, and strove to banish his lassitude, sitting bolt upright and gazing at the green shagreen cover of the Chinese spectacle-case. It seemed as if the eyes of the old Professor, larger than ever behind his glasses, were fixed vaguely upon him, and some dim recollection of past days of travel flitted into his mind. One morning on his journey to China, through the porthole of his cabin he had seen a narrow strip of coast-line between sky and sea, and knew it for the delta of the Yang-tse-kiang. Yes, it was the Yang-tse-kiang.
Pursuing this recollection, Wenk named his stake, won it, and left his money lying. A comfortable sense of drowsiness pervaded him, and he stretched himself out, enjoying it. Then he became wide awake once more, played his game, and continued his watch. The players were holding the bank in turns, and it seemed to Wenk as if he were only awaiting the moment when the old gentleman should take it over. “Why am I waiting for that?” he asked himself. “How strange it is that I should be. There are feelings that one cannot trace to their source.”
He finally decided that he was awaiting that moment because the Professor with the Chinese spectacles was the most interesting person present, and that this waiting sprang from a feeling of rapport and sympathy with him.
As the evening proceeded, this secret bond between him and the unknown Professor grew stronger still. “It is childish and sentimental,” he told himself; “what is it going to lead to?”
Then the old gentleman took the bank, and Wenk seemed to be released--released from a ridiculous and unnatural tension. “Now things will be all right,” he thought. He staked a small sum, trying to indicate thereby that he was no opponent of the banker, and that it was only for form’s sake he played against him.... He won, for he held eight points, and then he ascertained that he had staked a much bigger note than he had intended to. Therefore he put his stake and his winnings together and ventured both. He drew a king and a five. When he held a five he never bought another card, and this rule was so firmly established in his mind that when asked to say Yes or No, he did not even answer.
“You are taking a card?” were the words he heard in his fit of abstraction. They were uttered by a deep, compelling voice, and seemed almost threatening in tone. Strangely, too, they seemed to him to proceed from the spot behind and above him which had been the goal of the sounds “Tsi-nan-fu.”
Then he whispered hesitatingly, “Please!” and at the same instant he seemed to dissociate himself inwardly from this decision, but it was too late. He had drawn a five, and that, added to the cards he held, totalled more than twenty-one and made his hand worthless.
The banker’s hand showed a queen and a four, and as he had taken no other card, he had won the round.
“The country cousin is losing!” said a woman’s voice.
The hasty ejaculation astonished Wenk. He turned round again, trying to penetrate the obscurity; then he grew uneasy, and at the same time he seemed to feel the beating of wings above his eyes. Yes, they were wings, and he himself was in a bird-cage. And now a seven was dealt him. “That’s no good,” something seemed to say to him, although it was almost certain to win. But Wenk resisted the suggestion, and said distinctly, “No other card for me!” It seemed as if it were almost death to him to have to utter these words.... He felt as if lightning-stabs were compelling him to close his eyes. Then in the last struggle of his will against his unnatural weariness he saw the Professor’s hand resting on the cards. It pressed the upper one with a slight trembling movement, in evident desire of giving it him, and it seemed as if a secret and burning stream passed from this hand to him, seeking to compel him to take the card, although he had already declined it.
Recognizing this, he was suddenly wide awake. It seemed as if the chains destined to fetter his soul had fallen from before him, and he now faced the Professor fearlessly, seized with an incomprehensible and strangely earnest misgiving with regard to him. He was tempted to spring up and beat the beckoning fingers away from the card.
“You are taking a card?” said the deep, stern voice, as if issuing an order. It was the voice he had already heard from behind him. Then Wenk, in an unusually loud tone, said firmly and indignantly, “No, I have already declined!”
The large eyes behind the glasses remained fixed, gazing at him for the space of a second, then shrank back like hounds before a more powerful assailant. The old gentleman leaned slightly forward, asked for brandy and water, and shortly afterwards requested to be allowed to give up the bank and leave the game. He felt suddenly indisposed, he said....
They all busied themselves with him, crowding round his seat, but Wenk remained in his chair. He was struck by the connection between his little experience and the old gentleman’s attack of faintness. Were they indeed connected? He felt as if he were responsible for the Professor’s collapse. It seemed as if he had subconsciously come into conflict with him, and that this fainting-fit was the result of their struggle. He was considering how he could help him. Then he felt in his waistcoat-pocket and brought out his little bottle of smelling-salts. He took the stopper out and handed it across, saying, “Perhaps these salts may be of use? I have just ...” but he was surprised to find that the old gentleman had already departed.
His earlier misgivings returned. He rose quickly and pushed his way through the crowd. He wanted to follow the man and bring him back. Someone suddenly stopped him, saying something incomprehensible, as if he, Wenk, were responsible for the Professor’s condition; but Wenk’s hand went to the revolver in his breast-pocket. Cara Carozza advanced towards him; he pushed her hastily aside, dragging the other with him. Then with his disengaged hand he violently wrenched himself free of his assailant’s grip, and hurried to the corridor which formed the dimly lighted side-entrance. He heard footsteps behind him as he entered it, hastened forward, closed the door behind him after passing through, and soon gained the side street where the motor-cars were waiting.
By the light of a lantern he saw the old gentleman, bent and bowed no longer, but with hasty and powerful stride about to enter a car. He saw his own chauffeur drawing up to the kerb, and called to him in a low voice, “Follow that car!”
They flew after it. It was a large and powerful car, but as it was still early in the evening, there was a good deal of traffic, and it could not travel at its full speed, consequently they were close behind it. They were soon caught up in a stream of cars and taxicabs coming from one of the theatres, so that Wenk could follow quietly and without exciting suspicion right to the Palace Hotel. The Professor’s car stopped in front of it, and before Wenk’s car came to a standstill he saw the other enter the vestibule hastily. He gave a fleeting glance round. Wenk hastened after him, but happened to be caught in the stream of those entering, who hid him from sight. He saw the Professor rapidly open and read a telegram at the hotel bureau, and while he was reading it Wenk had time to select a favourable spot for observing him. Thus he saw that the old gentleman, raising his eyes from his telegram, gave a furtive glance round, then went quickly to the lift, opened the door and disappeared within it; but Wenk had noticed that there was a lift attendant sitting inside.
He waited till the light signalled where the lift had stopped, and saw it was on the first floor; then he rang for it to descend.
“First floor!” said he to the boy, and they went up alone.
“Wasn’t it the gentleman in No. 15 who just went up?” he asked.
“No, sir; it was the Dutch Professor in No. 10.”
“Ah, then my eyes must have deceived me,” he said. “Thank you;” and he proceeded slowly along the corridor. He came to No. 10, lingered a moment there, then went on and looked backward, hearing a door open. It might have been No. 10. He waited, stooping down and busying himself with his shoelace, and when he heard the door shut again, he turned round. Then he saw that on the mat in front of No. 10 there was a pair of shoes.
He went back, an unusual idea having occurred to him. He would knock at the door and ask the old gentleman whether he had recovered from his indisposition, and then take him unawares, for he felt he had enough to go upon to arrest him. The idea seemed to him both a bold and promising one, but when he stood in front of No. 10 again, he saw that the shoes outside the door were women’s shoes, and he gave up the thought. Then he went downstairs and asked to see the hotel manager. He showed him the necessary credentials and asked about the gentleman in No. 10. The hotel list was brought.
“No. 10, you see, sir, is Professor Grote, from The Hague.”
“According to your book he is staying here alone.”
“That is so, your honour.”
“Is he always alone here, or now and then with a female companion?”
“I do not allow anything of that sort, your honour. We are very strict about our guests’ respectability.”
“Well, I can only say that this guest, in spite of his size, has uncommonly small feet.”
“What does your honour mean by that?”
“He wears ladies’ shoes.”
“Ah now, sir, you are joking.”
“Well, come with me, my good fellow, and see for yourself.”
They went upstairs together. In front of No. 10 they saw a pair of elegant high-heeled shoes of the latest fashion.
Then Wenk cocked his revolver and went in without the formality of knocking. He entered the room quickly, the hotel manager following him. The light was on, but the room was empty. Both the windows were closed and the bathroom adjoining had none. Wenk searched the cupboards, bed, and drawers, but nowhere was any clue to be found. He hurried down to the street, but the stranger’s car had disappeared.
He made the manager inquire who had left the hotel within the last ten minutes. “Nobody but the secretary,” said the commissionaire. At that moment the secretary came from behind a partition, ready to leave the hotel. The man looked at him in amazement.
“You here again! You only left a few minutes ago.”
“I did? I was in the bureau till this very minute,” answered the employé.
Then Wenk knew all he needed to know, and the circumstance was fully explained. For the purposes of disguise the man who had disappeared had prepared the outfit of someone well known in the hotel. He had put a woman’s shoes at his door, for he conjectured, and rightly too, that the pursuer, before he entered the room, would go back to the bureau and inquire about the mystery of the feminine footwear, and he had made good use of the time this took. It was evident to Wenk that he was dealing with a mastermind. He was astonished at the dexterity with which he worked. It immediately recalled the doings of the blond stranger at Schramm’s, and Hull’s Herr Balling.
On his homeward way, and after he reached his chambers, Wenk thought over all he knew about the bearded blond, and tried to compare it with the impressions made on him by the Professor. But, strangely enough, although many details concerning the gambler at Schramm’s were firmly and indelibly fixed in his mind, his impressions of the Professor were wavering and indistinct, although he had encountered him but an hour before.
Moreover, he grew drowsy and it seemed to him as if he had to recover from some more than ordinary fatigue which he had undergone in the course of the day. He began to undress, and a lassitude, almost like that caused by the loss of blood, overcame him. That feeling of an inward lightness of body which had seemed so comfortable when he recalled it at the close of their contest, the nervous tension after the last occurrence, together with the sensation of faintness, now took possession of him entirely. He yielded to it and fell asleep before he had quite finished undressing. In his dream it seemed as if a mysterious and magic castle had been built up all round him, and he knew that if he could interpret the three syllables “Tsi-nan-fu,” or locate that hole in the wall whither The Hague professor’s voice projected them, he would find the key to unlock the door of the enchanted castle.
