The Golden Bough

CHAPTER XIV
THE CLUE

The shock of Madame Rochal's announcement took Rowland's breath away. If they had needed any explanation of the disappearance of the black bag, here surely was one which would have satisfied the most exacting. Von Stromberg-head of the Prussian secret service-the most hated, the most feared man in all Europe!

The jig was up. Rowland shrugged, making up his mind to bluff it out to the end, and so with his hand on Zoya's nerveless arm, walked with an appearance of great carelessness toward the door of the station, beyond which their cab was awaiting them. An official stood near the door and a soldier nearby but when Rowland reached the man, he merely preened at his mustache and smiled at Zoya. They reached the door. Still no arrest. The thing was interesting. What was the game? In the doorway Rowland stopped, put down the bag and in spite of the whispers of Zoya Rochal deliberately faced the door while he lighted a cigarette. The official had turned his back. The soldier had walked away.

He was frankly puzzled. It hadn't needed a great deal of imagination on Rowland's part to convince him that if Herr General von Stromberg had been instrumental in the theft of the bag, there was very little time left to Rowland in which to say his prayers. By all the rules of the game, he should already have been arrested, inside of twenty minutes he should be in a prison and tomorrow morning he should be shot. But here he was free, carrying the odious yellow suit-case and getting into a cab, under the very eyes of the very person who had most to lose by his liberty. Had Efficiency slipped a cog? Or was there a motive behind this astonishing leniency? Or-still more surprising-was von Stromberg as innocent as he and Zoya as to the whereabouts of the bag of the Bayrischer Hof? Indeed he was almost ready to believe so.

He turned again at the door of the cab and slowly gave directions to drive to the house of Georg Senf and then, while the pallid Zoya beseeched him frantically to hurry, he got into the cab and sank beside her.

If von Stromberg was the man who had found the money why, with all the authority he possessed, had he not arrested Drelich, Berghof, Liederman, Zoya Rochal and Rowland, put them in prison and discussed the matter afterwards? What was the meaning of this extraordinary consideration? Was it due to the nature of the business in hand, – a desire to keep secret the dark business of the theft of the funds of Nemi which would antagonize the small army of Socialists in Munich who were growing in power in the message they were sending across the breadth of the nation? Or was von Stromberg waiting until all the cards should be in his own hand, when he would play them to win?

Indeed, if the millions of bank-notes were already in his possession, it seemed that von Stromberg had already won and could afford to laugh at Herr Senf and all his followers. And yet if this man of mystery and power already knew so much why had not Rowland already been imprisoned as an alien enemy and a spy?

To this mental question there were two answers-the first the obvious one that Gregory Hochwald had not believed that Rowland, the escaped prisoner from a German camp, would dare to risk his life again following the fortunes of Nemi into the heart of the enemy's country, and that von Stromberg had accepted this opinion; the second, that General von Stromberg had just descended from his train from Berlin and knew nothing about him. The first answer was plausible but it didn't satisfy. The second satisfied but it wasn't plausible. For the old demon had surely acted the omniscient with his keen eyes and sardonic smile, frightening poor Zoya half to death. And yet it was just possible-. D- the fellow! He couldn't know everything. Rowland was plucking up his spirits admirably. At least he hadn't been arrested yet.

Poor Zoya seemed for the moment bereft of all spirit and initiative and leaned back in the cab, frowning out of the window, her arms folded, a very thunder-cloud of vexation.

"We have lost," she said at last, in despair.

"It seems so," said Rowland with a smile, lighting another cigarette. "And yet there remain several matters which I do not understand."

"That man! There will be much more that you do not understand if you have to deal with him. He is uncanny-in league with the devil himself."

"Perhaps. I can well believe it."

As the thought came to him, Rowland glanced suddenly over his shoulder out of the rear window.

"Ah, I thought so. It's not von Stromberg, Zoya. It's Hochwald! We are being followed. Two men on bicycles."

She was too well trained to look around but seemed no happier because of the discovery.

"There's no use losing one's nerve," said Rowland cheerfully. "In fact, I'm growing happier every minute."

Madame Rochal's amazement was painted in her face.

He shrugged. "Because if General von Stromberg had succeeded in getting the money, he would have arrested us both in the Haupt Bahnhof."

"You mean that-"

"That someone else has taken it. Precisely."

"Hochwald?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. But, as we say in my country, 'I'm from Missouri, you've got to show me.' And if Herr Senf is the man I think he is, I'm going to proceed on that theory."

The workings of Philip Rowland's brain, it seemed, had been a mystery to her from the first, when she had thought him such easy fish for her net and she looked at him now with a new interest as though some more brilliant facet of his personality had suddenly been revealed to her. She threw her hands impulsively over his own and drew closer to him.

"You, at least, mon brave-are a man!" she said.

"Listen, Zoya," he put in quickly. "This is no time for fooling. It's going to be a squad and a stone wall for me, if things don't break right. You've got to do what I tell you. I've got a lot to do between now and night and I can work better alone. I'm going to give those blighters back there the slip. You're to go on to the Russischer Hof, take the yellow bag, and wait. Understand?"

She nodded, pressed his hand, sighed and sank back in her seat.

He leaned forward, gave some orders to the driver and then as they turned a corner where the traffic was thick, he opened the door quickly, jumped out and lost himself in the throng upon the sidewalk. As the cab went up the street he had the satisfaction of seeing the men upon bicycles pass him by in their vain quest and with a smile turned the nearby corner and hurried in the direction of the house of Georg Senf, which was upon the other side of the river.

"D- the woman!" Rowland was muttering. "I've got other business."

What mattered the millions of Nemi if he couldn't find Tanya? He shut his lips and increased his stride, tortured by the maddening uncertainty as to her whereabouts. A serious matter, Hochwald had called it. It would prove a serious matter for him, if they ever met on anything like equal terms. And yet if it was von Stromberg who was opposed to him, what was the chance of his finding Tanya in this city of more than half a million people? But if Nemi meant anything, there was a power here that might be more than a match for this subtle Prussian General. What was he here for unless to seize the millions of Nemi? But he hadn't seized them yet. Rowland's immunity from arrest was the pledge of it. Then who had them-who had taken the black bag? Was Hochwald playing some deep game of his own in defiance of the dangerous Prussian? And if he had taken the black bag why had he ordered these men to follow his cab instead of arresting him at once? Rowland had now reached the point of believing that Hochwald didn't know where the black bag was. This new hope was based on other premises than his inherent optimism. There were several missing links in the stories of Drelich and Herr Berghof. Each by itself was clear, but taken together, there was food for thought. He hadn't liked Herr Berghof. The fellow had a shifting eye. He had come to testify because not to do so would have made him an object of suspicion. Rowland had watched him closely and had noted the growing hesitancy in his manner as the American had probed deeper into the problem. Why had he suddenly fled? Did he know that there would be no money in the bag to be redeemed at the Haupt Bahnhof? In this case he was an agent of Gregory Hochwald or Baron von Stromberg. Or had he fled because he thought that there would be no bag to redeem? And why, if an agent of Hochwald, should he show such inquietude? And why, on the other hand, disappear suddenly on the eve of a recovery which would redound much to his credit with a probability of substantial reward? Berghof hadn't rung true somehow.

As he strode rapidly over the bridge, dismissing the elusive bag and thinking of Tanya, he made a resolve to put the authority of Nemi to the test. He had taken this greatness because it had been thrust upon him, in a spirit half of amusement, half of adventure, because Tanya had demanded it of him. But the joke seemed to be on him now. These Bavarians were serious, sober and deeply in earnest and if the verboten signs didn't frighten them before they started something, there was a promise of big doings in Munich before many hours passed. He was It, the grand mogul, and great things were expected of him. He would try not to disappoint them. If he didn't find Tanya and the money it wouldn't be long before the prettiest little revolution this prince-ridden country had ever seen would be brewing right here, where brewing was the leading industry. He would brew them one and if it ever got properly started, it would reach to Potsdam.

At the house of the Socialist leader, Rowland gained a new sense of his power. For during his absence the heads of many of the different labor organizations of Munich had called to offer him their fealty and encouragement. And to focus his attention quite definitely upon the meeting tonight, Senf showed him a message that had been received from Herr Hochwald a moment before his arrival, announcing that gentleman's intention to be present with the Central Committee at which he expected to bring up matters of grave importance.

"They're going to test our strength," said Senf quite calmly, "and we're going to let them. It will be a fight for our existence."

"If they'll only forget the verboten signs," said Rowland absently-for he was thinking of Tanya.

"I beg pardon," asked Senf politely.

"I was thinking of another matter. How shall you succeed against Hochwald while he holds your most important witness? They will believe that Fräulein Korasov has taken this money unless she is there to accuse her jailer. I must find her, Herr Senf. And you must help me-before tonight."

"Ah," said Senf with a sudden access of interest, and told Rowland of a report that had come to him a short while before. The cabman who had driven the Fräulein and Herr Hochwald away from the Bayrischer Hof had with some difficulty been found. He had driven them to the garage of the Bureau of State Railroads and the pair had departed in an automobile. The official at the garage, evidently acting under instructions, refused to talk, but Senf's agent had been lucky, for a mechanician in the garage was a political follower of Max Liederman's and a member of the Order of Nemi, and had heard quite accidentally that the automobile had gone to a villa upon the banks of the Lake of Starnberg.

Rowland's eyes kindled. It was high time that fortune aided him. Starnberg he found was less than twenty miles away and could be reached by railroad in three-quarters of an hour. He sent for and questioned the man who had brought the information, but could elicit nothing more, for the mechanician had told all that he knew and there was no way of finding the precise location of the villa without arousing the suspicion of the official and this might be fatal to any plans to effect a search.

When the man had gone, Rowland looked at the clock on the mantel. It was four o'clock.

"Herr Senf," he said with a smile, "you have done wonders. I could not have asked more of you. I must move now in search of the Fräulein and move quickly. I'm going to Starnberg at once."

"You! But, Herr Rowland-the committee! We meet tonight. I had counted upon you to speak to them-"

"I shall try to come back in time-I shall try," he muttered, with a wave of his hand. "But you see how it is-without her-"

"We must do what we can."

"Are there members of the Order of Nemi at Starnberg?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, a few. Herr Benz-"

"You must send a wire to him at once to expect me. I leave on the first train."

"Three-quarters of an hour. I will do as you say. But you will return?"

"Yes-"

Senf wrote a message and gave it to a man who was waiting outside the door.

"To Herr Weiss-in the code. A handkerchief-a red handkerchief in his left hand-you understand?"

The matter of a disguise was imperative and in a few moments in the blouse and cap of a workman Rowland stood in the door shaking the old man by the hand.

"One thing more, Herr Senf. Herr Berghof must be found at once, and hidden until my return."

"Herr Berghof! He should come willingly enough."

Rowland smiled.

"I'm afraid not. He has taken fright."

"But why?"

"I don't know. If he is honest you should find him at the Bayrischer Hof. If he is merely frightened the matter may be more difficult. But if he knows more than he has told us he is already on his way to the Swiss border-"

"You suspect him-"

"I suspect everyone. He says that he was asleep. But Drelich avers that he told Berghof he had carried a suit-case to the Haupt Bahnhof. Berghof knew that and he knew also what the suit-case contained-money-much money."

"True," cried Senf excitedly. "But how could he have redeemed the bag without the ticket in Drelich's pocket?"

"He couldn't. But he could have gone to the lodgings of Drelich and taken it. The porter was drunk."

"And the ticket Drelich gave you?"

Rowland grinned. "Would there not be other baggage checks in the office of the Bayrischer Hof? The owner of the bag may be hunting it now. Find the owner of that bag, Herr Senf, and we will know who made the substitution."

"Donnerwetter!" cried Senf. "It is quite possible. But if we have learned this much what is to have prevented Herr Hochwald from learning it also?"

"Nothing, unless-"

"Unless what, Herr Rowland?"

"Unless Herr Berghof has managed to elude him."

Senf scowled at the opposite wall. "We shall see about this. Go, Herr Rowland, you may leave this matter quite safely in my hands. I will bring Herr Berghof here and crush the truth from him with my bare hands."

Rowland laughed at the old man's enthusiasm. "Yes. But if you don't find him in Munich a wire to Shestov or Barthou might not be inadvisable."

"You think-?"

"I think nothing," said Rowland. "I'm tired of thinking. But I'm the best little guesser in Munich. And now I must be off."

Sending Liederman to Zoya Rochal and the Russischer Hof to search the yellow bag and if possible find its owner, Rowland went at once to the Haupt Bahnhof and took a train for Starnberg. He had no definite plan. But what he had already seen of George Senf's influence and following gave him new courage. If Tanya were still at the villa to which she had been taken, he would find some way to reach her.

In the train many plans came into his mind. He now knew that the man he was to meet here and if necessary others who did his bidding would be absolutely at his orders, and the sense of the power that he possessed made him bold. It might be difficult to find the villa to which Tanya had been taken, for Starnberg was a town of several thousand inhabitants. But the villas, he had been told, were strung along the wooded slopes of the lake, each in its spacious grounds, and Gustav Benz would know the names and occupants of all the regular summer residents. It would perhaps not be difficult, once he found where Tanya was, to approach the place with five or six men and accomplish by force what might be difficult alone. But there was a strong argument against a fight, which might bring in the police and end in publicity if not disaster. The subtler plan appealed to him more. Hochwald could hardly suspect the good fortune that had enabled Rowland to discover the whereabouts of the prisoner, and if not aroused before Rowland's plans matured, would probably permit some carelessness of Tanya's jailers which would open the door to her escape. Rowland meant to move slowly until he was sure of his opportunity, then acting quickly with such means as presented.

It was half-past five o'clock when he descended from the train, with an old bag of Senf's in his right hand, in the guise of a Munich workman off for a few days' holiday. In his left hand he carried a cheap red handkerchief, with which as he reached the platform he wiped his brow. He waited in a moment of apparent indecision when a man at the door of the station stepped forward. He had a handkerchief in his left hand. Rowland stopped before him and the man extended his hand.

"You come from Herr Senf?" he asked.

"From Senf, yes. You are Herr Benz?"

"Yes," replied the other. "Come."

CHAPTER XV
THE TURKISH CIGARETTE

He was a prosperous looking man, a small house-owner, perhaps, or tradesman, but he had a broad brow and a look of alertness which were an earnest of his intelligence. Rowland walked by his side conversing easily of casual things until they reached a street upon the edge of the town, built up with rows of smaller houses, all much alike, each in its well kept yard. Into one of these houses Benz led the way and in a moment they were safe from curious eyes. Rowland was quite certain that he had not been observed either upon the train or in the town and it was therefore with a feeling of confidence as to his own present security that he informed Herr Benz of the nature of his errand and the necessity for immediate aid from those friends who had the interests of the Order of Nemi at heart. Herr Benz made no pretense of concealing his antipathy for the Prussian government, and proclaimed his full allegiance to the Socialist cause. The deference which he paid Rowland and exacted of his son, a boy of sixteen, the supper served by the neat Frau, and the willingness Herr Benz expressed to aid in any possible way, showed Rowland how deep and strong was the undercurrent of antagonism and unrest in the hearts of the placid easy going Bavarians.

Benz knew Starnberg, he said, as he knew the palm of his hand. He had been born and bred here and for twenty years had conducted the small bakery which was now his own. He knew every villa as far as Possenhofen where Elizabeth, Empress of Austria, as Herr Rowland must be aware, the daughter of Duke Max, was born. Every villa… He must think. All these people were good customers of his, and had been for years. His son every morning early delivered the bread, a distance of two miles or more to the furthest house. Did Herr Rowland believe the villa he sought could be as far away as that? Rowland shrugged helplessly.

"I know nothing more than I have told you," he said. "A villa upon Starnberg See-near Starnberg-that is all I know."

Benz nodded, but his brow was puzzled.

"Near? How near? A mile? Fortunately, all the villas that need be considered are on the east bank of the lake. That reduces our labors. I will try to remember them one by one."

That task seemed to be hopeless, even with the aid of the boy, who was called in to testify. The day was now fading and so Rowland suggested that they go out and walk the length of the road and attempt by a process of elimination to isolate those houses which might for any cause be classed as possibly open to suspicion. The suggestion was acceptable to Herr Benz. And so he left word with his son that if any message came from Herr Senf over the telegraph, arrangements for which had already been made, Benz the younger was to bring the message along the road on his bicycle, and keep passing to and fro until he found them. They then set forth, smoking their cigars, very vile ones, which Herr Benz had provided, and presently were walking down the well ordered driveway along the shimmering lake. One by one Herr Benz named the owners of the cottages, puzzling here and there over a doubtful case, Rowland with an appearance of great unconcern, eagerly searching the grounds with his glance, the lighted windows for a glimpse of a feminine figure which might be Tanya's.

The night was warm and upon the terraces overlooking the water many of the occupants of the houses were sitting enjoying the night air. He heard the low murmur of their voices, a light laugh here and there, the sound of a piano and young people singing, but nothing that could give any immediate clue as to the location of the villa he sought. And yet Tanya Korasov was here somewhere near him waiting for the aid that had not come.

At the end of the driveway which now became a mere country road Herr Benz paused, for the distance between the houses had grown greater and except for a few small cottages in the dusk beyond, the region of larger places had come to an end. The total results of Herr Benz's process of elimination to this point were five houses as follows: -

Two small villas, the names of whose occupants were unknown; a large unoccupied house belonging to an Italian, Count Monteori, who because of the war had been absent for three years; the magnificent place of Baron von Speck, occupied only by the servants, its owner being on the staff of Prince Leopold in France; the château of Frau Baltazzi, an aged Grecian woman of wealth who lived alone with a female companion.

It was with some difficulty that the impatient Rowland constrained himself to sit with Herr Benz upon a rock overlooking the placid lake and calmly discuss the matter.

"You are sure," he asked, "that you are quite familiar with the antecedents of the occupants of all the other houses?"

"Quite, Herr Rowland. In the case of additional persons coming into these houses, the orders for bread would undoubtedly be increased. My son is a clever boy. He would hear of any new comers through the kitchen doors. With these larger houses the case is different, Frau Baltazzi is a woman of mystery. She has no friends in Starnberg. But she is very old and an invalid. It is possible that Herr Hochwald may have the authority to compel her-but I doubt it, Herr Rowland."

Indeed, after a process of question and reply which seemed to be sufficiently conclusive, only the residences of Count Monteori and Baron von Speck remained as probabilities. Having reached this conclusion, it was decided for the present to concentrate all attention upon these two places. And so, turning north, they walked slowly back toward the town, while Benz told what he further knew of the two residences under suspicion. The place of Baron von Speck was just before them on their right, a pretentious stone mansion, in the midst of a grove of trees, beyond a spacious lawn, at some distance from the road.

Rowland, who felt sure, because of the Baron's rank and affiliations that the use of this house by a representative of the Prussian secret service would be justified, was for entering the grounds at once and making a thorough investigation of the premises. Time was precious and it was worth taking a chance. But Herr Benz hesitated. Here again Rowland discovered that awe of the military authority which he had noticed in Max Liederman, a habit of thought bred in the bone since childhood, which for a moment of inaction seemed to have created a sudden atrophy in this man's interest and enthusiasm. But the moment passed for Herr Benz did not lack courage.

"Wait here," he said at last. "I will go and inquire."

So Rowland concealed himself in a clump of shrubbery within the grounds while he watched the figure of Benz go around the turn in the road toward the house until he was lost in the shadows. He had promised not to move, but every impulse urged him to follow and pursue the investigation in his own way, for he felt sure that the end of the chase was near. But he realized that Herr Benz had reasons for his method of approach and decided at least for the present to await in patience the result of his investigation. After awhile he heard the footsteps of the man crunching the gravel of the driveway and in a moment had joined him.

Benz was shaking his head.

"I went to the kitchen and saw the housekeeper, telling her of the new order as to the slight increase this summer of the ration of war bread. She had not known of it and was thankful for the information, but informed me that her own orders from the Baron were strict and that her household had been reduced to three persons, so that what she was allowed would be sufficient. Further conversation followed and she took me to see the view of the lake from the terrace. There is no one there, Herr Rowland, but the three servants. I would take my oath to it."

Rowland's hopes fell. And yet he realized that after all the decision of Herr Benz had been a wise one.

"Did you make any inquiries in regard to the villa of Count Monteori?" he asked.

"Yes, and they know nothing."

And so the two men went northward again more rapidly.

The Monteori villa, like that of Baron von Speck, lay within spacious grounds well wooded, the house itself, built of stone and stucco, like many of those famous residences on the lakes of Italy, just upon the edge of the lake, the waters of which lapped the base of the stone wall which protected its terrace and garden. As Benz had said, it had long been unoccupied except for two servants and if the Prussian government had seen fit to use it, for purposes of its own, the fact could, he thought, be quite easily discovered. But the method of approach which had been so successful in the case of the house of Baron von Speck might be hazardous here, since Herr Benz was not upon terms with the caretaker, Taglitz, a north German, an old man of a violent temper who suffered much from asthma. Last year Benz had quarreled with him about the payment of a bill. And so it was decided that he and Rowland should separate before they reached the place, moving with caution under the protection of whatever cover availed, in a quiet investigation of the lighted windows and garden. Rowland chose the side toward the lake and leaving the road where the shadows of the trees afforded protection, moved down through the underbrush cautiously, peering forward, waiting and listening and then making a long detour to avoid a stretch of lawn until he reached a small ravine, down which a stream trickled to the lake below. Progress was slow because of the necessity for caution, but at last he emerged near the edge of the lake and hidden behind a huge rock gazed upward toward the windows of the house, less than two hundred feet away.

He saw that a wall of stone separated the terrace from the lawns. There was a gate in the wall probably locked so that it seemed as though the best mode of approach would be from the lake itself to the stairs which led up to the terrace.

There was a light in one window of the house, upon the second floor under the tiled roof, another, a dim one, in the room which let out upon the terrace, and he thought that he could distinguish the low murmur of voices above the lapping of the waters of the lake beside him. But he was not sure. There was no way of getting nearer the house from this side without a danger of being observed, for the moon had risen and there was no cover on the lawn before him. And so he lay quiet for a while, keeping watch on the windows. While he looked he fancied he heard voices again from the window upstairs and then shortly afterward a new light appeared in the wing of the house, a candle or lamp which threw a large shadow upon the wall. For twenty minutes he watched it and then he heard the sound of a door closing and at the same moment the light went out. Whoever had gone to that room had left it, taking the light with him.

He fancied now that he heard the sound of a masculine voice and then a figure appeared upon the terrace, threw a cigarette over the wall into the lake and then went indoors, but a cloud had come over the face of the moon and it was not possible to distinguish the identity or appearance of the smoker. But presently upon the light breeze was wafted the odor of a Turkish cigarette. After a while the light on the lower floor went out and so Rowland slowly retraced his steps up the ravine to the road, determined to choose another point of observation. He lighted his pipe and passing the gates to the park went on to the farthest boundary, the appointed spot at which he and Herr Benz had decided to meet and compare notes.

Herr Benz had heard nothing, seen nothing suspicious; but when Rowland informed him as to the man with the Turkish cigarette Benz listened attentively.

"You are quite sure that it was a Turkish cigarette?" he asked.

"Quite positive."

"That is curious."

"Why?"

"Because in Munich one smokes a pipe or a cigar. The cigarettes one may buy are too expensive for such a man as Taglitz, this caretaker, to smoke."

This seemed a slender straw to clutch at but as Rowland thought of it the smell of the Turkish cigarette seemed to grow in significance. Taglitz, an old man who suffered from asthma, would hardly choose a Turkish cigarette, even if he dared smoke at all. And the only other occupant of the house was his daughter, who cooked his meals and looked after him. Either Fräulein Taglitz had formed a very bad habit or Herr Taglitz had visitors. And so they walked a short way down the road toward the town while they planned. Herr Benz wanted to go to town and bring two of his followers, one of whom could watch the driveway, the other to hide near the house while Rowland found a means of entrance, by the terrace, from a boat on the lake. To this Rowland agreed, insisting however that he should remain watching the house in the meanwhile. They had just bidden each other farewell and Rowland had turned back toward the suspected villa when he heard the sound of voices behind him and stopped to listen, returning quickly to the group.