The Man Without a Memory Part 21

"If you didn't see that, you can't have seen everything as you said."

"But he told me he hadn't a chance to do a thing."

"Bravo, Hans!" I exclaimed. "Just like him. You wouldn't expect him to spread himself and swagger about his own pluck, would you?"

But all roads lead to Rome and so did this one. "He declared it was all your own doing, and after the way you fought before, I----"

"Come along, let's go to your mother," I broke in, and linking my arm in hers I moved toward the drawing-room door. "Hans is one of the best; if he weren't, he wouldn't be so ready to give me the credit for what he himself did. But we can't have that, you know."

She held me back a moment. "What you said about him has done wonders with mother; changed her right round; and we're going together to the von Reblings. Oh, I _do_ thank you so!" and being only a kid she squeezed my arm ecstatically.

I had to endure a bout of "heroizing," but something came out in the course of it that made me put my thinking cap on afterwards. Nita playing chorus to her mother's praise as she repeated some of the pretty things von Gratzen had said to her about me.

"I've never heard him speak in such a way of any one in my life before," she declared; "and he is so grieved about your extraordinary loss of memory. I think he is even rather provoked about it. He was in England as a young man, you know, and has made several visits there in later years."

"I did not know that," I said, p.r.i.c.king up my ears.

"He loves to talk of the country and the people, and, as you have just come from there, I am sure he is bitterly disappointed because you can't tell him about the things you saw and the people you met and all the rest of it."

"It would have been very interesting to me too," I said.

"You don't know how long you were there, I suppose?"

I shook my head. It seemed less mean somehow to do that than to lie outright in words; and it answered all the purpose quite as well.

"It must be a dreadful thing to lose one's memory," put in Nita.

"It makes everything very difficult," I said with a shrug. It did.

"And yet you can remember everything that's happened since, can't you?"

she persisted.

"Perfectly. As perfectly as if I had never had that shock."

"It _is_ odd."

Her mother took up the running again then. "My husband thinks you must have been a very long time in England," she said.

"That's very interesting. Why does he?"

"I don't know exactly. Of course it can only be a guess. But he declares you are much more like an Englishman than one of us. I fancy it's your reserved manner; the way he said you p.r.o.nounced English to him; and then your knowing something of the English words of command.

In fact he took you for an Englishman at first; and he questioned me ever so closely, almost cross-examined me indeed, as I told him, about your fighting yesterday, the way you used your fists, and so on. I was quite amused."

My feeling was anything but amus.e.m.e.nt, however. "It's a thousand pities I can't tell him anything."

To my surprise this seemed to make her laugh, and I thought it prudent to join in the laugh. But it was something else which had tickled her.

"There was one thing he insisted upon worrying us both about. You remember, Nita?"

"Do you mean the kicking, mother?" The latter nodded and Nita continued. "I thought it awfully funny, Herr La.s.sen, to tell the truth; at least I should have done if it had been any one else; but father always has a strong motive in such things. If he asked me one question he must have asked fifty, I'm sure, taking me right over every incident of yesterday, to find out whether in beating off those awful men you had ever once used your feet. I told him I was sure you hadn't; and he seemed to think it was a most extraordinary thing for a German to have used only his fists. Don't you think it silly?"

"I don't know quite what to think of it," I replied truthfully.

"For shame, Nita, your father is never silly," said her mother severely; but Nita had her own opinion about that, judging by the pout and shrug which the rebuke called forth.

There was a moment's pause, and this offered me a chance to change the subject by putting a question about the war work which both were doing; and soon afterwards I left the house.

It was clear as mud in a winegla.s.s that von Gratzen was still undecided about me. That close questioning about my method of fighting was disquieting; so was the reference to my reserved English manner; and the reference to my p.r.o.nunciation, especially as I had rather plumed myself on my American accent. It all pointed to the conclusion that my nationality was suspect in his opinion.

He had been in England, too, and I myself knew how well he spoke the language. Altogether he was probably as well able to spot an Englishman as any one in the whole of Berlin. And yet all the while I had been flattering myself that he had been completely hoodwinked.

At the same time no one could have shown me greater kindness. That he was really grateful for the previous day's affair was beyond doubt; it had appeared so to me anyhow; and his implied offer of help--that I should go to him in any trouble--made with such earnestness as to amount almost to insistence, all suggested an intention to be a friend.

There was the reference to Nessa, again; his ready promise that she should be sent home "for my sake," and the startling proposal at the very last moment, that she should go in my charge, which had literally taken my breath away.

What was one to think? It was a very puzzle of puzzles, especially in view of the unreliable vagaries of German officials in general and of what Rosa and the rest had said about von Gratzen in particular.

What a lovely mix up it would be if his suggestion materialized and Nessa and I were packed off together under official protection! It seemed a million times too good to be even thinkable. Compared with such a gloriously gorgeous plan, our little conspiracy scheme seemed almost contemptibly mean and commonplace; scarcely worth bothering about for a moment. But it was best to have as many strings to the bow as possible, so I went to the von Reblings' to hear if Rosa had anything to tell me about it.

Ought the others to be told of the fresh development? It seemed better not for the present. It was hard luck to have to keep such stunning news secret, but there was nothing to be gained by raising Nessa's hopes until they were virtually certain to be fulfilled. What would she think of the notion? I hoped I could guess. Being a bit of a sanguine a.s.s, I started castle-building on the foundation, and by the time the Karlstra.s.se was reached, I had planned, built, and furnished a very n.o.ble edifice indeed.

Old Gretchen opened the door as usual, and her look and start of surprise and general manner, suggesting something uncommonly like consternation, brought me down to earth and shattered my castle effectively.

"They are not at home, sir," she declared hurriedly; and instead of opening the door wide, she held it so as really to block my entrance.

Her obvious nervousness probably accounted for a step which at once roused suspicions.

"No one at all?"

"No, sir. They will not be home until late."

"That's a nuisance; but I'd better speak to Miss Caldicott."

"She's not in either, sir." The reply was given hesitatingly, and she made as if to shut the door.

A smile and a casual, "Oh well, it doesn't matter," put her off her guard and her relief was shown in her change of look. "Can I give them any message, sir?" she asked. But her relief vanished and gave place to greater concern than ever when I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"That's a good idea, Gretchen; I'll write them a little note," I said, as I pa.s.sed her in the direction of the drawing-room.

She slipped before me and stood by the library. "You'll find paper and everything here, sir," she smirked.

It looked as if she wanted to keep me from the drawing-room; and it was not difficult to guess that she had been disturbed at her spy work there. It was a bad shot, however; for during the pause there came the murmur of voices in the drawing-room itself.

"You must be wrong, Gretchen. They must have come in without your knowing. I can hear them."

"Oh, no, sir. The door's locked. I have orders always to keep it locked when the Countess is not at home;" and she held up the key in proof and slipped between me and the door.

I started with a great appearance of alarm and pushed past her. "Then there's a thief in the house," I exclaimed.

At that instant there was the sound of some sort of commotion in the drawing-room; a cry of "How dare you?" in Nessa's voice, followed by a sneering laugh, uncommonly like von Erstein's.