Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 5 – Clare · Verses Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 5Chapter 5
18
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery 5
Chapter 5
ClareEnglish
For the next few evenings Wenk did not visit any gaming-house. As his own chauffeur, dressed in leather cap and coat, he drove round the city, bringing his car to a standstill before one or other of its well-known resorts, and observing, from the security of the driver’s seat, the people who entered or left it.
On one occasion, when he was driving to the first of these houses and proceeding slowly along the Dienerstrasse, he was held up by a block in the traffic. While he was waiting, he saw in a tobacconist’s, just in front of which his course was arrested, something which caused his pulses to beat at double time. It was he, the sandy-bearded man! He had his back turned and was buying cigars, but it was certainly he! He was making his choice slowly and carefully as if he defied the danger of being recognized. There was a car in front of the door. Wenk examined it closely, but it was unfamiliar to him. He copied its number down.
Once the chauffeur left it, in order to do something to the back of the car. Wenk, who was behind him, called to him; the man looked up, but put his hands to his mouth as if to signify that he was dumb.
The man in the shop took up his parcel and turned to the door, but the face he disclosed to Wenk was one he had never seen before. People pushed between him and Wenk, so that he saw him for a moment only. Just then the block was released, the string of cars drove on, and the one in front of him set off at a bound, as if hastening to get away from pursuit.
Wenk, however, could not shake off his conviction. He followed. As soon as the other car was free of the rest, it increased its speed, and bore off to the Maximilianstrasse. Wenk was unable to keep up with it. The street was empty throughout its length, and when he had reached the square at the end he saw that the car in front was turning down Wiedenmeierstrasse. He still followed, the distance between them always increasing, but in the moonlight he never lost sight of his quarry throughout the length of the street. When he reached the Max Joseph Bridge, he saw that the car in front was making use of the wide square on the other bank of the Isar to make a detour, and suddenly, with its engines throbbing, it came back across the bridge and drove past him. It then drove again down the Wiedenmeierstrasse, which it had just ascended.
This was certainly a suspicious circumstance, and Wenk did all he could to gain upon the other car, and turned round while still on the bridge. Again the other turned into the Maximilianstrasse, and as it was now teeming with traffic, Wenk was able to bring his own vehicle close up.
The strange car came to a halt outside a theatre of varieties. Wenk sprang from his car, and when the stranger left his and, turning his back on Wenk, entered the theatre, he felt the same overpowering conviction that it really was the blond--it could be no other.
In feverish excitement Wenk pushed past the people and got into the theatre. He saw that he would overtake the stranger in the foyer, so he waited among the rest, certain that the other would have to pass by him.... But when he did, Wenk saw a broad, clean-shaven man, with a heavy mouth and large staring eyes. The face was quite unknown to him, and coolly and indifferently the large eyes glanced at him. Disappointed and disgusted, Wenk passed by, intending to go out to his waiting car.
A few late arrivals detained him in the proximity of the cloakroom. It was exactly eight o’clock, and the signal that the curtain was about to go up was already being given. At this moment Wenk realized what a difficulty there would be and what excitement would be created were he to arrest his man then and there. Unwilling to let his quarry escape him, he turned once more, and then saw the other disengaging himself from a group of men who were pushing forward to the pit, making his way quietly to the left-hand entrance to the boxes. This led to the five ground-floor boxes, as Wenk knew. He quickly made up his mind and bought a seat in one of them for himself. It was the last to be had, and the plan showed him that each box held five persons.
Going back to his car, he crept inside, and there changed into evening dress. From the box-office he telephoned his chauffeur to come for the car, and then returned to his box.
It was dark when he entered it, and he tried, but without success, to distinguish the stranger’s features in the dim light. When the light went up again he was equally unsuccessful in tracing him anywhere among the twenty ladies and gentlemen sitting in the lower boxes. It was altogether incomprehensible. This corridor led to the five boxes only, and they were five or six feet above the pit. How had his quarry escaped him?
Now thoroughly uneasy, Wenk hastened to the street to see whether the stranger’s car was still there. To his relief he found it there.
He breathed more freely, and turned to go to his own car and remain there until he could pursue the other, but as he noticed the strange car again, he saw that it had a taximeter. He had looked at the car well before, and was certain that it had no register. Without further reflection, Wenk approached the chauffeur, saying, “Are you disengaged?”
“Yes, sir,” said the chauffeur.
Wenk entered the car, giving his own address. During the drive he intended to consider his next move; then it suddenly occurred to him that the man, who had been dumb when in the Dienerstrasse, answered instantly when spoken to here.
The automobile drove on; a sweetish scent pervaded its interior, which affected Wenk’s mucous membranes.
Something was wrong then! “A little while ago he was dumb, now he can talk,” reflected Wenk. “Before it was a private car; now it is plying for hire like a taxicab. What is it that smells so strongly?” His nostrils and eyelids seemed to be on fire.
In order to decide what the odour was, Wenk drew one or two deep breaths. Then he tried to open the window, for he found the smell unbearable. What did it smell of? He raised his arm, but he saw that it would not rise to its full extent; it did not obey his will. At the same moment it seemed as if a heavy block were pressing on his eyes. Then dread seized him in a fiery grasp. No longer capable of resistance, he began to bellow furiously, flung himself down and kicked with his foot at the handle of the door, but without being able to find it.
For some few seconds he lay on the floor of the car, with occasional gleams of consciousness. Then these were finally extinguished, and complete insensibility overtook him, while the car continued its mad race through the streets.
The chauffeur drove with the unconscious form of the drugged State Attorney throughout the darkness to Schleissheim. There he propped him up on a bench, and then drove back to Munich. In the Xenienstrasse he halted before a residence standing alone. Upon a brass plate might be read:
DR. MABUSE,
Neurologist.
A man of massive build, covered by a fur coat, came rapidly out of the house and through the little front garden to the car. “He is lying in the Schleissheim Park,” said the chauffeur. “Here is the notebook you wanted.”
“Did you remove the gas-flask from the car?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Drive on!”
But at this moment a woman, closely muffled up, came out of the darkness and stepped towards the car. She held on to the door, murmuring beseechingly, “Dearest!”
Mabuse turned in annoyance. “What do you want? Are you begging?”
The woman answered him gently and sadly. “Yes, begging--for love!”
“You know my answer.”
“But remember the past. Why should this be?” implored the voice.
Mabuse, in wrath, exclaimed, “The past is past. Your part is to obey. My orders are clear, and there is nothing between Yes and No. You have heard from George what my wishes are. Drive on, George!”
He was already in the car. The woman fell back to the garden railings, covered herself up again, and called after the retreating car, “But if I cannot stop loving you?”
Then a second car pulled up close beside her. A man sprang out and advanced towards her, saying threateningly, “What do you want here? Oh, oh! it’s you, Cara! Well, have you spoken to the Doctor?”
She nodded despairingly.
“There’s nothing to be done. His will is like a sledge-hammer, therefore don’t oppose it. So long! I must go after him.”
And Cara Carozza gathered her disguising garments about her and went away in grief, downcast and heavy-hearted, to sacrifice herself for him.
“Where are we?” inquired Mabuse through the speaking-tube.
“Past Landsberg!” answered George.
The plans in Mabuse’s head succeeded one another as rapidly as the trees in a forest in which he wandered continually further. Ever more steps to climb, more gulfs to cross! Were they really plans after all? Were they not dreams? he asked himself, suddenly checking the thoughts that were racing through his mind.
“Five million Swiss francs are now worth about twenty-five million lire, i.e. five million Italian five-lire pieces. Each of these weighs twenty grams. Five million, will that be enough? It’s a good idea, for the gain on every five-lire piece which I buy at to-day’s rate with Swiss francs is four francs; therefore the total gain will be four million Swiss francs. Against that the costs are thirty per cent. Good! Each one, I said, weighs twenty grams. Now, how many kilograms are there in five million times twenty grams? A hundred million grams? Why cannot I think out these simple calculations clearly? Am I afraid of anything?”
Yes, there again he found himself in another forest. “Am I afraid, really afraid? If I am, I shall come to grief. After all, who is Hull? Who is Wenk? What absurdity! I ... afraid?”
He collected his ideas, and sent these thoughts packing.
“A hundred million grams make a hundred thousand kilograms. According to the district he is in, a smuggler can carry from ten to fifteen kilos every time. How many men am I employing in this work alone? The whole amount must be brought from Italy to the Southern Tyrol and thence to Switzerland within a month. The Austrian frontiers are easier, even if I have to employ twice the number. Spoerri reckoned the risk to be only three per cent., according to the police reports, as against ten per cent. by Lake Constance or the Ticino frontier, where the Customs officials, even in peace-time, used to regard everybody with suspicion.”
Mabuse’s imagination threatened to run away with him again. Should he not try to sleep?
“Where are we?” he called through the speaking-tube.
“At Buchloe!” was the reply.
The distance from Buchloe to Röthenbach was eighteen kilometres.
“That will take two hours,” he reflected; “then we shall do it comfortably. At 2 p.m. we must be at Schachen, and before that we meet Spoerri at Opfenbach and Pesch on the Lindau Hill. After that we shall be practically in Schachen, and there will be no chance of sleep.”
But he could not regain control of himself. Wenk’s attempt at pursuit oppressed him. In the Palace Hotel he had only had ten minutes’ start of him.
He did not want to acknowledge it, even to himself. He began to reckon that to smuggle five million five-lire pieces from Italy and the Southern Tyrol through Vorarlberg to Switzerland would require two hundred and fifty people on each frontier. That was five hundred men for the smuggling alone. If he reckoned the buyers and the Bolzano collectors as well, it was really seven hundred. With their families he might consider that he was keeping, roughly, about four thousand people. That was a small township. A little town lay in his grasp, pledged to evil purposes, working in dark nights, stealing along mysterious byways, avoiding the revolvers of Customs officials, working stealthily, steadily, at his will. They had no thought either, but of him, the owner of the money, the employer and dictator, the possessor of all power and force. They ventured their lives for him, but he had never seen one of them. How would it be if he were to see and converse with them, appearing abruptly before them when they were in the midst of their enterprise? They would imagine themselves to be caught, until they should have realized that it was he, their master and employer, who stood amongst them.
Four thousand people; it was a whole district. But in Citopomar it would be something very different when he traversed the virgin forests and had the Botocudos and all the other tribes directly under his thumb, and had left this insignificant beggarly little continent behind him! There his word alone would be law. There, in Citopomar, the dream of his boyhood would be fulfilled--a dream which had already begun to be realized on that large and desolate island which lay cradled in the ocean yonder. There he had owned men; there wild Nature was his alone; as a conqueror he had sailed the waters; his blood and sinews governed men; his will was imposed on Nature; the palms of his planting yielded him a luxuriant growth of wealth--sheer gold. He could despise it because he did not need it, for there he was free, free as a king, a deity!...
But the war had driven him out of his Paradise and sent him back to the despised continent of Europe. He could not endure life in these European countries. He felt as if he were confined in a pasture, eating grass like dumb, senseless cattle ate their predestined, accustomed grass. No, he could not live thus! Therefore by undermining State organization he was preparing a State for himself, with laws which he alone made, with powers vested in himself over the souls and bodies of men. By means of his accomplices he was collecting the money wherewith to establish his empire in the primeval forests of Brazil, the Empire of Citopomar.
He was self-sufficing. What were men to him? He scattered them at will. Yonder, however, in the future, in Citopomar, there would be none who could oppose him.
By degrees, as these thoughts ran away with him, Mabuse fell asleep, his limbs reclining on the cushions and his phantasies soaring above all material things. For two long hours he slept, sunk in the darkness of his dreams.
Then it seemed as if a little hammer were striking his skull, always on the same spot. It was annoying, and it was unheard of. He had only two hours between Buchloe and Röthenbach in which to sleep. Who had dared to strike his head with this hammer?
All at once he was wide awake. The hammer was the whistle of the speaking-tube.
“Well?” called out Mabuse.
“There is a car behind us.”
“What are its marks?”
“There is a grey patch on the right lamp.”
“What is the time?”
“Half-past one.”
“And where are we?”
“Two kilometres from Röthenbach.”
“Pull up! It is Spoerri.”
The car stopped, and immediately its lights went out, and so did those of the car which followed. Then it drove close up and stopped. There was a cough heard.
“Come here!” said Mabuse.
Someone came out of the darkness. Mabuse had drawn the revolver from his coat-pocket. The car-driver turned on a small electric lamp, and its gleam disclosed a man wrapped in a large cloak.
“Spoerri?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
The pistol was returned to its place.
“Spoerri, wait here a quarter of an hour, or else drive to Schachen by another route. You must arrive shortly after me, between half-past one and two o’clock. I have decided on some great changes that I want to tell you of before we go to Switzerland. Anything else?”
“Everything is in order. I have another hundred kilos of cerium in the car.”
“Good. Between half-past one and two o’clock!”
They drove on. As their road approached the Austrian frontier, which was patrolled by officials, their lights were extinguished for a while, but in Schlachters they shone out again, and the village was soon left behind them.
Half-way to Lindau, where forest and hill meet, they stopped again.
“Anybody there?”
“No, Doctor.”
“Not Pesch?”
“I don’t see anybody.”
Mabuse quitted the car impatiently.
“I will punish him for this. I will have my people punctual!”
He waited on, and the minutes crept by. Mabuse slapped his thigh angrily. To keep him waiting! That a smuggler should dare to do such a thing! He was consumed with impatience, and felt as if his dignity were impeached. That a smuggler should keep him, the master, waiting!
Five minutes later a car, with faint lights, issued from the junction road and stopped on the highway.
“Pesch!” exclaimed Mabuse.
A man turned from the open car.
“Yes, Doctor, here I am. It is Pesch.”
“It is 1.45 a.m., and you were due at 1.35.”
“Oh, a matter of ten minutes doesn’t count. I’ve had to wait often enough!” answered the voice in the darkness in a defiant tone.
“If I had a horsewhip here I’d cudgel you soundly. Ten minutes mean fifteen kilometres advance upon a pursuer, you fool! You are earning two thousand marks from me to-night.”
The other answered boldly, “And with my help you are earning twenty thousand!”
“Five hundred thousand more likely, you blockhead,” said Mabuse; “but that’s nothing to do with you. The only question here is who is master and who servant.”
“You are not my master,” said the other.
“I am not? ... you say so, do you?” he thundered. “Very well, you can get along home. I don’t want you any more--never any more!”
He turned to his car and got in; then said hastily in a threatening tone, “If you feel inclined to send any anonymous information to the authorities, you’ll remember that there is a fir-tree growing in the wood, and there’s room for you to hang there like your colleague Haim. Drive on, George!”
The car started off again.
In the neighbourhood of Schachen, where stately houses with upper stories made cars appear less striking, they found a park gate open, and without any difficulty George found his way along the dark drive leading to the villa. The lights were extinguished.
While Mabuse and George were still standing on the doorstep Spoerri arrived.
When Mabuse opened the door and turned on the light, he saw that Spoerri was dressed as a monk.
“It is a mere accident,” said Spoerri. “I had to go to Switzerland in a hurry, and down there in the Rhine valley a cowl is more useful than even a genuine frontier pass. The last pass I had is in St. Gallen, and you know that I had to leave there hastily. But I had left the list of securities with Schaffer, and he brought them to me at Altstetten to-day. It is not safe to send such things by post nowadays.”
When he said this they were sitting in a large, well-furnished dining-room. George served the supper, brought ready prepared from Munich, and warmed up on the electric stove. Still eating, Mabuse said:
“We will liquidate on the lake itself, and thus we shall gain five points more than on land, according to the lists. I have bought five million Italian five-lire pieces. They are coming to the Southern Tyrol, and must be taken to Switzerland by way of the Vorarlberg. You must look after that, Spoerri. The Italian agent is Dalbelli, in Meran. You must go there to-morrow. I give you a month to do it in, and then we shall start a fresh district. Switzerland is now strongly against the importation of silver, and so there is less competition. We shall get enough of the five-lire pieces in Italy, and I have tried to do it with French silver too, but since the Treaty of Versailles there are so many fresh business combines in France, and they give nobody anything because the majority of them have not been in trade before. Have you not noticed that?”
Spoerri nodded, making some inward calculation.
“Stop your calculations till I have done talking,” said Mabuse sharply, and Spoerri looked up in confusion.
Mabuse continued: “My confidential agent in the Government has informed me that meat-control will be abolished in Bavaria next month, but the matter will be kept dark. The difference in the prices prevailing in Bavaria and in Würtemberg is an enormous one, and for the first few weeks of decontrol it will still be very considerable. It would be a good thing to begin buying up now, however, and you can say that I am prepared to lay out ten million marks. Buy as much as you can get hold of; haste is wisdom in this respect. Inquire of Meggers in Stuttgart about the sales, and see that we have enough people for the transport. Everything must be completed within three days of giving the orders. We shall want from a thousand to twelve hundred head of cattle, and look out for beasts of good quality. No sheep or pigs--the risk is too great. Reckon it up for yourself before you do anything further. We get thirty per cent. on our purchase, and therefore we can allow ten per cent. on expenses. You must reckon more correctly than you did about the salvarsan.”
“That time I hadn’t calculated....”
“Exactly, you hadn’t calculated correctly. Pesch is withdrawing; let him be closely watched by the Removal Committee, for he is impulsive, and if he plays the slightest trick he can be strung up beside Haim. By the way, they haven’t found him yet.... How much did you pay for the cerium?”
“It was dearer than....”
“Everything always is dearer than ... the Poles or the Bolsheviks can get it. How much?”
“Fifty marks.”
“Fifty Swiss francs then. They must have it, so don’t yield a stiver!”
He whistled into the speaking-tube under the table.
“George there?” he called out. “Everything in order?... Good. The Rhine is waiting, Spoerri. George, you are to be pilot; don’t forget the securities. That’s all for the present”; and turning again to Spoerri, “You’ll be in no danger in going to Zürich, Spoerri, will you?”
“I am all right as soon as I’ve passed the Customs, and then I go on as a priest.”
“If you travel by the Rhine, you’ll avoid the Customs; you can take charge of the securities and put them in the bank, to the account of Salbaz de Marte, mining engineer. Here is the list: a million in German Luxemburg stock, two million German Colonial Loan, five hundred thousand-mark notes. These are to be changed at once into milreis; that gives a better exchange than either dollars or Swiss francs. Inform Dr. Ebenhügel that fresh securities have been deposited, and that I want him to make use of the first favourable opportunity and sell for milreis.... There is one rather difficult matter to settle: the disposal of the people who have been working for me in Constance. If they are unemployed....”
“Many don’t want to work any longer, in any case,” said Spoerri.
“I know. Those are the folks who have all they want; there’s nothing to fear from them. With my help they have got their own houses and are free of debt. But sometimes I have been obliged to take any workers I could get, and those who don’t own their houses should be carefully watched. The powder magazine is at Constance, for the young fellows live there, and if we suddenly withdraw these high wages from them, there is nothing for them to do but steal, and in a week’s time they’ll find themselves in prison and will be blabbing everything in their rage. Talk to George about this, and see what is to be done. He’s going there to-morrow. The safest thing would be to pack them off into the Foreign Legion. Go and see Magnard as soon as you have finished up in Zürich and Meran. Don’t forget to claim the commission for them. Give it to George, who can divide it among those concerned.... Authorize Böhm to sell the three motor-boats that we have on the lake besides the Rhine. That always bears the ensign of the Royal Würtemberg Yacht Club and therefore is unnoticed. Keep the Rhine in this neighbourhood for any emergency. The boat can do sixty kilometres if it is well handled. Let us go.”
George was waiting outside. The three men felt their way through the darkness to the landing-stage, where they could hear the boat’s engines throbbing.
“You have followed out my orders and there’s nothing on board?” said Mabuse.
“Nothing but the cerium.”
“Take it out then. I am not a dealer in scrap-iron!”
George hastened forward. Three men were busy in the gloom. Then Mabuse and Spoerri went on board and the boat started, going cautiously through the night. The engine scarcely throbbed. There was a slight vibration in the cabin where Mabuse sat, wrapped in his fur coat; then he went to the deck aft, and impatiently forward to the engine. After they had travelled for a while, he listened intently. It seemed to him as if through the sounds made by his own boat a noise reached his ears.
“Stop!” he cried suddenly.
George stopped the engine, and the sounds outside ceased. They started again, and immediately the sounds on the water, now on the right and again on the left, were heard once more. Mabuse went on the fore-deck, where the noise of the engine was not so distinct. From there he could hear them quite distinctly.
“We are pursued, or at any rate under surveillance,” he thought. “Can it be that lawyer-detective Wenk?” Calmly, yet defiantly, he got his pistols ready. In the darkness he tried to discern what flag the Rhine was carrying, but it was impossible to find out.
“Spoerri,” he called out softly, and Spoerri came out of the cabin. “What are we travelling as? Don’t you hear that we are being followed?”
“No, no,” said Spoerri, “we are a Swiss patrol-boat to-night. I heard that the Germans were about, so I ordered the three other boats to act as convoy. One is travelling behind us, the others on each side. Nobody could reach us; we are already in Swiss waters.”
“How much a year do you earn in my service, that makes you take such care of me?” said Mabuse spitefully.
“Quite enough,” answered Spoerri; “but that is not why I do it.”
“Why then? Are you enamoured of my person, or is it merely the Christian charity that it suits you Swiss folk to assume since the war?”
“Yes,” said Spoerri simply.
“I have three and a half millions here in my dispatch-case. If you dared to, you would strangle me, but you don’t dare, and that is all there is about it. That is your pure humanity and love. During the last year you have had somewhere about eighty-five thousand, six hundred and seventy-seven marks or more from me.... Is that enough to stifle the desire to murder a man?”
“Yes,” said Spoerri once more.
“Then you are a slave--my slave. Do you hear me? You are my slave.”
“I hear you.”
“Shall I slap your face? No; I won’t touch your slave-skin with my own. I just spit in the air.”
“Into the sea. You won’t pick a quarrel with anybody. There is no point of honour on the Lake of Constance.”
“Point of honour is an expression that doesn’t exist. A point is no larger than a squashed fly, and that’s the extent of a man’s honour--yours too, eh? You have some honour, even if the Lake of Constance has not?”
“I have never measured it.”
“Speak sense when you talk to me. I won’t stand your tomfoolery.”
“We are getting close to the shore.”
“Are you shirking, fellow?”
“No.”
“You dog!” said Mabuse in a stifled voice, in growing wrath. “I feel hatred tingling in my finger-tips. I shall grasp you by the throat, you cur, you cowardly cur, and I shall annihilate you just as the electric current in the American death-chair does, you miserable wretch!”
At this moment the engine stopped. For some time the sounds of the boats behind them had ceased.
“Why have we stopped?” asked Mabuse angrily. “I gave no orders.”
“There is no signal from the shore.”
Then Mabuse came to himself again. He stood up, gnashing his teeth, and asked:
“What is the matter?”
“We must wait. We can always rely on Solly. There is something wrong.”
“Let us wait! Have you weapons ready?”
“Yes, but if we don’t get the signal, we’d better get into the skiff. Then we can row back to the other boats.”
Behind Romanshorn a searchlight began to play, throwing a beam of light into the sky. It moved lower and peered about through the darkness, probing closely and lingering in places, then was directed towards the waters in the middle of the lake. It rose in the sky once more and then fell pitilessly on the very spot where Mabuse’s boat was lying. His knees trembled under the tension.
Suddenly, however, the shaft of light was fixed on a house standing out prominently in Romanshorn, just where the new church stood on a hill, and those in the boat perceived that the other craft must be far beyond on the other side of the point, and did not signify any danger. Their boat remained in darkness. In the railway-station on the shore lamps hung here and there at some distance from each other, and their reflections gleamed fitfully on the black waters. Then Mabuse said sternly:
“No, we’ll stay here! Tell George to get the pneumatic gun fastened to the engine.”
Spoerri sprang to do his bidding.
Under the cushions there was a poison-gas installation. Mabuse opened the nozzle. The wind was from the south-west and therefore favourable to his purpose. He prepared masks for himself and his companions and tried their fastenings.
Then he saw on shore a light which shone out brightly and was at once extinguished, then came again and flickered and was still. The engine started again, and the boat was soon in the channel, gliding under the trees, where it finally came to a standstill. The engine was silent, and a man ashore threw out a cable. Then Mabuse heard someone say, “Dr. Ebenhügel.”
“Yes,” he ordered, “let him come on board.”
A dim form stepped across the gangway.
“It is I, Ebenhügel, Doctor. I have just come from Zürich. It is on account of my car that Solly did not give the signal punctually. The Customs authorities are on the watch every night with their cars now. Did you get my wire? There is something wrong, for the clerk has sent a warning. He could not tell us what was up, but from some reply to one of his superiors he gathered that it came to the Consulate headquarters in Zürich from the Munich Criminal Investigation Department.”
“So,” said Mabuse, closing his jaws firmly, “my lord Wenk is on the track, is he? Just you wait a while, my fine official!” Then, turning to Ebenhügel, he continued, “I am constantly in danger, but I’ve never come to grief yet.”
“I meant to say that this danger can only be averted in Munich. If anything goes wrong, they must not be able to put the responsibility on us here in Zürich.”
Mabuse answered roughly, “What do you mean by that?”
“This affair is of great importance for several people.”
“For whom then?”
“For myself, for example!”
Mabuse waved his hand with a threatening gesture of dismissal, while the other stood breathless.
“I have not been drinking,” said Mabuse. “How came you to alter my plans for such a trifle?”
“I thought it was necessary to warn you. The post is being watched, and people are not reliable.”
“Who is to convince me that you are reliable? You are one of the people too.”
“Our common interests should convince you, Doctor. I merely meant to tell you that it is from Munich that the danger threatens. You would be safe in Switzerland. You have accumulated wealth which allows you to live wherever you like. Stay here; you will be safe among us.”
“A lot you know about that! Your business is to look after my investments, nothing else. You are but my manager. Enough on that head. Is there anything else to tell me?”
The lawyer described his latest financial operations to Mabuse, who took down the descriptions furnished him. Then he walked backwards and forwards alone on the foreshore for five minutes, to ease himself after his long sitting.
“Is Spoerri still there?” he asked. “Spoerri, you need not go to Zürich. Ebenhügel will take the portfolio with him. We will go back to Schachen together.”
Upon the return journey Mabuse could not remain still in one place. He was constantly backwards and forwards on the small deck. The three convoys were again throbbing in their neighbourhood, their sounds drowned in the ghostly darkness. Suddenly Mabuse called through the speaking-tube to George, demanding brandy. Spoerri heard the order and shrank in terror.
In the half-hour which the passage took, Mabuse drank the bottle empty. He was drunk when they landed, and he staggered through the darkness towards the house in front of them, having issued orders that they were not to follow for five minutes.
“We want more drink,” said he, when they were in the dining-room. “George, bring drinks!”
George shuddered, for he knew that the more the doctor drank, the more violent and unreasonable he became. Spoerri himself was always obliged to drink till he lost his senses. They drank champagne and brandy mixed in equal parts.
“This is liquid gold,” stuttered Mabuse thickly. “Here, George, bring bigger glasses! Let’s have the goblets. Spoerri, take a draught. You fool of a courier, drink; drink it down, you dog. Down with it into your currish throat! Now then, another! Drink till you can’t hold any more in that carcass of yours. I love to see you drink till you’re sick!”
Spoerri drank until everything swam round him and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
“And you, my lord Wenk! A State Attorney in Munich! Your notebook! Your orders to the Criminal Investigation Department, forsooth! Just wait a moment, my fine gentleman! We’ll begin with Herr Hull, for he was the first.... (Drink, Spoerri, can’t you, you miserable country bumpkin, drink; drink as I do!) Let me see--Hull, yes, Edgar Hull, 34, Hubertusstrasse. Away with him, his turn first. George will look after it, and you can help him. The Carozza girl can contrive it. Find your accomplices. Write it down, it is the order of the ... Prince. (Drink it down, now!) Of the Prince, have you written that? Which prince, do you say? The Prince, the Emperor of Citopomar, in Southern Brazil. A word from his mouth and a thousand women lie bathed in their blood, five hundred men are reduced to impotence. One single word and a whole edifice totters! Don’t simper, you fool, or I’ll dash your brains out with this goblet!”
He flung the vessel down, shattering it in pieces, and with the fragments he threatened Spoerri.
“I ... I am writing it,” stammered Spoerri.
“A thousand women and five hundred men,” shouted Mabuse.
“Doctor,” said Spoerri hesitatingly, struggling with the intoxication overcoming his senses, “I did not hear; I do not know this Hull. What am I to do with him? 34, Hubertusstrasse.... Do you really mean me, Doctor?”
Then Mabuse all at once stood upright, intoxicated as he was. “Yes, you!” he thundered, and then gave Spoerri a heavy blow with his fist, full on his forehead, knocking him senseless to the floor. “I am going to bed, George,” he shouted, overcome with rage. He left Spoerri lying where he was, and went out.
When he came into the dining-room again next morning, Spoerri was sitting there. Mabuse had breakfasted in bed.
“Show me your notes!” he ordered in a harsh voice. He ran through them quickly, found Hull’s address traced in drunken characters, and returned the book to Spoerri. “That’s all right,” said he, and Spoerri fawned upon him like a cur watching to avoid a kick.
That attitude of his did Mabuse good; it soothed and reconciled him, and he became talkative. Spoerri was quietly delighted to find the master friendly towards him, to know that the dread will of this imperious man inclined him to be amiable, as if recognizing his devotion.
“Spoerri,” said the Doctor, “I shall go to Constance with you. We mustn’t let those young men do anything stupid!”
Spoerri brightened up. “Oh, when they once see you, Doctor, there’ll be no trouble at all.”
The two men remained all day long at the villa. Mabuse drank, but no longer compelled Spoerri to do so. By midday he was already intoxicated. Spoerri, tired out by the carousal of the previous night, watched over Mabuse devotedly. He tried many simple devices to persuade him to stop drinking, but Mabuse soon saw through them, and ordered full bottles to be brought and no tricks to be played. Alcohol was a necessity to him; it inflamed his wild and evil spirit, and in the phantasies of intoxication he found all his great ideas. There was no thwarting of his will from without, and when drunk he felt himself enclosed as in a castle of the Arabian Nights. Nobody could understand that to him alcohol was the bringer of magic, the stream which intensified life and gave him creative power. He bathed in it as he might do in the love of some fair woman, yielding himself to it wholly, bridging chasms, attempting new feats, working unrestrainedly and overcoming all obstacles.... He became a law unto himself, a world of which he was the sun.
“Spoerri, how do you like Europe?” he stuttered.
“Oh, very much, Doctor,” answered Spoerri unreflectingly.
Then Mabuse broke out vehemently, “You shall not go to Citopomar, to my Empire! Europe is a filthy, lousy country, fit for none but grubs and earthworms. It is the home of parasites, of all creepy, crawly creatures, but when I am in Citopomar--CITOPOMAR ... Spoerri, I shan’t take you with me. I am going to sleep now, and will see you later.”
He staggered out, and lying in his bedroom on his bed, fully dressed, he felt for a few moments as if he were himself the universe, beyond and above all bounds and limits, the power of his will surging over him as a stream of molten lava, bearing him with it towards the day when, in his distant kingdom, his power would be supreme over man and beast, and all Nature be subjugated to his impulses.
In the evening, when the twilight was descending, they drove to Constance. Mabuse was sober, silent and morose. His imagination was already busy and his nerves reacting to his stern resolves, as he thought of the crowds of young men in the town, which seemed but a mere speck on his horizon--men who had been working for him since the Armistice. From this very town he himself had made a new start when the war had driven him from his own vast plantations in the Solomon Isles back into the European vortex, and he could find nothing better to do than work for medical examinations and exchange his career in the Pacific for that of a doctor in a town of Southern Germany.
