The Golden Bough

Rowland puffed his cigarette quite calmly but hid his thoughts under the cloak of his perpetual smile.

"Would you like a new hat?" he asked.

"There are many things I would like, mon Philippe," she said coolly. "A villa at Monte Carlo, an hotel in Paris, a very tiny one, but-" she halted suddenly and shrugged, "but I'm not apt to get those things with the money of Nemi." And then with a dramatic gesture, "Is it not pledged to the Cause?"

He did not look at her for fear that he would betray the confirmation of his suspicion. But the impulse stirred in him to follow this line of subjective inquiry still further.

"And yet I cannot forget that it was you, Zoya, who at a doubtful moment swung the Council of Nemi in my favor."

"I have not regretted it-nor shall I."

"I owe you much. I am about to place myself in a position where I shall owe you more. With your help in Munich I am doubly armed. Something tells me that we shall win. But I must pay-"

"You shall pay me with your friendship, Philippe," she murmured. "That is all I ask. You will give it me, will you not?"

She was clever. He drew closer and looked into her eyes which had in them something of the appealing quality of a child's. It was difficult for him to believe that her expressions were not genuine, but he could not forget the warnings of Tanya Korasov and smiled into her eyes with a boyish frankness.

"Have I not already given it to you, Zoya? Last night-you didn't mind? Your lips were very close… They are very close now-"

Max Liederman narrowly missed a tree at the side of the road. Then he swore that terrible German oath which translated means "thunder weather," slowed his pace, stopped the car, then turned around in his seat.

"What do you talk about in English, you two?" he roared, his face as black as the weather he apostrophized. "Is it not enough to try and drive rapidly without these distractions behind me? You will come to the front seat, Zoya," he growled, "or I shall drive no further."

"By all means," said Rowland cheerfully, getting up and opening the door. "If Madame will descend."

Zoya obeyed, but the pressure of her fingers and the look she gave him advised him of her preferences.

"You act like a spoiled child, my great bear," she said to the German, with a laugh. "I was merely telling Philippe of Georg Senf and the Committee."

"Philippe!" he growled. "Already-"

She said something to him and as Rowland got in behind them he drove off again. But it was easy to see how the wind sat in that quarter.

Rowland was obliged to admit that the woman distilled a kind of subtle poison. There was a time… But by the bloody beard of von Tirpitz-not now! Her beauty passed him by. It was not for him, for he was now measuring loveliness by other standards. He would play the game, must play it, wherever it led, even with Zoya, but he found himself hoping that it would not lead too far. He had reason to doubt her sincerity and had guessed the inspiration for this sudden affection upon the part of Madame Rochal. She had long lived upon admiration and received it of Rowland as a right, but more than this, she loved power, and more even than power, the money that brought it. Max Liederman was a horrible example of the effectiveness of her art, for it was plainly to be seen that he was infatuated and was now even jealous of Rowland. It wouldn't do to stir up Liederman, or to blow cold with Zoya, for he needed them both and meant to use them to the best of his bent, for after all was not his captive Princess awaiting him yonder, somewhere in the blue haze beyond the plain, and how could he hope to succeed in finding her without the help of Liederman?

They had made good time and by early afternoon had passed Ulm on the way to Augsburg. After dinner Liederman's spirits rose and lighting a big black cigar, he invited Rowland into the seat beside him, while Zoya Rochal leaned over their shoulders and joined in the conversation.

"Herr Rowland, you have not yet explained entirely to my satisfaction how you happened to be inside the vault. Khodkine surprised you there with Fräulein Korasov, nicht wahr?"

Rowland told him the truth.

"I understand," said Liederman when he had finished. "And what were you going to do with the money?"

"I don't know. Fräulein Korasov had planned for that."

"Ah-and you trusted Fräulein Korasov?"

"Implicitly."

Liederman laughed and tapped Rowland playfully upon the knee.

"Ach-a little tenderness in that quarter, nicht wahr?"

This was for Zoya's benefit, but the heaviness of his humor made his intention rather pathetic.

"Fräulein Korasov was kind to me. She fed me when I was starved. I could hardly show anything but gratitude," said Rowland quietly.

"What assurance can you give me that her intentions were honest?" asked Liederman.

The man was so dull. But Rowland kept his patience admirably.

"Merely this-that Fräulein Korasov sought to prevent the very thing that has happened. She distrusted Monsieur Khodkine."

"Ach, so. That is the one bond we all have in common. But Herr Khodkine is clever. If he has high authority for this game he is playing, we will be at our wits' end to circumvent him."

Rowland thought a moment.

"You may be sure he will have that authority," he said at last.

"You know-?"

Rowland paused again. Where did the German in Liederman end, where the Socialist begin? Rowland took the chance.

"He is an agent of the German Government," he said shortly.

He was soon to find out where Herr Liederman stood. The machine swerved violently as the German's heavy hands suddenly grasped the wheel.

"A secret agent!" he muttered. "Who told you?"

"Fräulein Korasov."

"And how did she learn this?"

"From Kirylo Ivanitch."

"The devil! How did he find out?"

"I don't know. But he knew."

A stream of smoke and sparks flew backwards from Herr Liederman's cigar as he puffed violently. He was much disturbed.

"The Wilhelmstrasse! It is worse than I supposed."

"It is well to know the worst," Zoya Rochal's clear voice cut in coolly, "for then we can plan for it. Georg Senf must know at once."

"It will be a battle for our existence," said Liederman grimly. "They dare not interfere with our meetings," he roared. "They dare not!"

"You feel very sure of yourself," put in Rowland. "I wish I were as confident."

Max Liederman clenched his great fist, held it for a moment suspended in the air and then let it fall quietly upon the wheel. To Rowland, who had felt the might of German autocracy, the action seemed typical-the clenched fist of an aroused people which did not dare to strike, a fist restrained in awe of a habit of thought! But Liederman's words were brave enough.

"The German Socialists will permit themselves to be intimidated just so far," he muttered between set teeth. "And then they will show their might. It may be that this is the straw that will break the camel's back. We shall see. They will not find us unprepared."

"Who is Graf von Stromberg?" asked Rowland, suddenly recalling the name in Khodkine's dossier.

A stifled murmur came from Zoya Rochal.

"Br-! You do not know? The most terrible man in the world. He knows everything about everybody. A thinking machine which nothing escapes, which sees into every cranny of Europe, with power no less than that of the Emperor himself. That man!"

Madame Rochal paused in the spell of some unpleasant reminiscence.

"Why do you ask, Herr Rowland?" questioned Liederman quickly.

"Because I have reason to believe that for some years Khodkine has taken his orders from him."

"Do you think that he was acting under orders from General von Stromberg when he took the treasure of Nemi?"

Rowland shrugged. "How should I know? It is possible."

"You have learned a great deal in a very short time," growled the Socialist. "I owe you an apology. I thought you were a fool, I'm glad to admit I was mistaken."

"I'm stupid enough at any rate to admit that I won't know where to find Fräulein Korasov when we reach Munich. Without her we shall move in the dark. Her testimony before the Committee-"

"That is true. We must find her. But you must leave that to me. You shall see. Ten thousand men if we need them will search for her. By tomorrow night at the latest-"

Zoya Rochal behind them was laughing softly. "It is not at all improbable that you will find them in the Imperial suite at the Bayrischer Hof."

Rowland felt the blood rising to the tips of his ears but he kept his composure.

"Them, Madame Rochal?" he questioned soberly.

"Why not, mon Philippe?" she laughed. "One can live quite decently even in Munich with twenty-five millions of francs."

But he played the game and laughed the remark aside.

"There is nothing in the animal world so unkind as one beautiful woman to another."

Zoya Rochal shrugged, Liederman scowled, but Rowland smoked quietly, his gaze on the distance.

Inquiries along the road, which was well traveled, revealed no knowledge of Monsieur Khodkine or of his stolen Mercedes-which Max Liederman had paid for-but they drove steadily on, passing Augsburg and reaching their destination late at night, where Herr Liederman drove directly to the house of Georg Senf, which stood in a region of small houses thickly settled.

An enormous bearded head stuck out of a window, heard Liederman's earnest plea, and in a moment they were admitted to the house, where the whole tale of their adventure was told, when Zoya Rochal, protesting that not for twenty-five hundred millions would she lose another hour of sleep, was driven to the Russischer Hof where Rowland and Max Liederman promised to meet her upon the following day.

CHAPTER XIII

A SCENT

George Senf was leonine. Aroused suddenly from his bed, the disorder of his long white hair and beard gave him a singularly wild and ferocious aspect. But he got out a long-stemmed pipe and after lighting it, settled down with a steady eye to listen to the story that Liederman and Rowland told him. He heard them through to the end, putting in keen questions or incisive remarks here and there which did much to reassure Rowland that their case was in capable hands. This was a leader of men, a thinker and a man of action, and his comprehension of all aspects of the situation and the definite manner of his decisions, left no room to doubt that he believed a crisis to be impending between the forces he represented and the powers of the government which stood behind Khodkine. When Liederman and Rowland had finished he sat for a long while on his bed smoking, his brows frowning, staring at the opposite wall. At last he waved them away.

"Go," he said shortly. "You will need your sleep. My work begins now – at once. Tomorrow we will have a report from Fraulein Korasov. We need her. The meeting of the Committee is tomorrow night. Come here when you have slept and we will plan further. Good night."

And so the two men returned to the Russischer Hof and found the sleep of which they were both much in need. But it was with some mental reservations that Rowland went to bed, for he had vowed that until Tanya was found he would never rest in peace. He had seen something of the double nature of this Gregory Hochwald, and the possible dangers to which she might be subjected filled him constantly with vague alarms. But he realized that he must rest to be effective upon the morrow. If his conscience troubled him, he had no chance to be aware of it, for he was sound asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Liederman was hammering upon the door of the adjoining room which he occupied before Rowland awoke and sat up in his bed, blinking at the light of broad day, and after a hurried bath and breakfast they called upon Zoya Rochal and hastened to the house of Georg Senf.

They found the Socialist leader in his bedroom, which was blue with the tobacco smoke of a secret conference of several men, three of them leaders, as Rowland afterward discovered, in labor organizations allied to the Socialist-Democratic and Socialist-Revolutionary parties. As the new comers entered there was a silence except for the words of greeting of Georg Senf and they all rose and made place. One of them wore a workman's blouse, and the others were shabbily dressed but in all three Rowland noted the same characteristics-the broad brows of intelligence, the firm lips of resolution, the clear penetrating gaze of men accustomed to think for themselves.

"This is Herr Rowland," said Georg Senf briefly, "the new President of the Order of Nemi, who has come from Switzerland on this sudden mission."

The men bowed and shook the hand of the American gravely.

"You will not find Munich lacking in ardor, Herr Rowland. Our followers are many and we are strong," said one, named Conrad Weiss, who was chief telegrapher of the Munich Post Office.

"You will need to be strong," said Rowland, "for there is every sign that a test of your power is coming soon."

"We are ready for it, Herr Rowland," rumbled the deep bass of Herr Hoffner, who wore the blouse, "and the people of Bavaria are behind us. They are sick-war weary. And the time has come."

"Have you arms-ammunition?" asked Rowland pointedly.

The question seemed to have probed deep below the surface, for no one replied at once. And then spoke Herr Yaeger, a smallish man with long hair and the dark eyes of a dreamer.

"Arms-ammunition. Yes, perhaps-here and there. But arms are verboten. It is necessary that we move with caution. Nor do we wish to win with arms or ammunition, Herr Rowland. Stronger weapons, – poverty, hunger, the rights of one man as against another. They will triumph in the end."

Rowland assumed an air of dignity he was far from feeling, for deep in his heart he realized as these men did not that strong as their organization was, or firm its affiliations, the time would be long in coming for any nation which so feared the verboten sign. He was sorry for them, but he dared not tell them so. He had that maddening inclination to laugh which came to him sometimes upon the most sober occasions, but he bowed his head deeply, saying nothing, which as every one knows-is the part of wisdom.

In this he added to the respect with which they held his office and when Georg Senf drew the meeting to a close, offered him all the help that was in their power to find the money that had been taken.

"That is well," finished Senf, "you will carry out your instructions. You, Herr Weiss, to the telegraph office and summon all leaders for tonight by the harmless code of initials. The meeting is at ten. So lose no time. You, Herr Yaeger, to your factory. You, Herr Hoffner, will keep in readiness for a further call. Herr Berghof will please remain."

Now for the first time Rowland noted a figure in the corner of the room, who rose as the others went out and came forward at a sign from Herr Senf and was presented to the new arrivals.

Georg Senf, relighting his long-stemmed pipe, paced the floor before the fire place.

"I have been busy, my friends, while you have slept," he said. "This matter of the money brooks no delay. In ten minutes after you left this house last night I had made my plans. Our comrades live all about me here and by daylight our different leaders had been notified. By breakfast time thousands of members of our organizations were combing the city in all directions. Every hotel, every pension-An hour ago we met with some success-"

"You've found her-?" broke in Rowland eagerly.

"Only to lose her again." As Rowland sprang up Senf raised his hand. "One moment. It was through no fault of our own-or of Herr Berghof's here, who could not of course have known that Fräulein Korasov's interests and mine were identical."

Herr Berghof, a thin, ferret-like person, smiled and squinted as Rowland glared at him.

"You saw her, Herr Berghof-?"

But Georg Senf broke in again with maddening, methodical Teuton insistence.

"All things in order, Herr Rowland," he said calmly. "A little patience and you shall know all. Herr Berghof is a Social Democrat, but not a member of the Order of Nemi. He has been brought here by Herr Weiss a while ago, somewhat against his will, but he has replied to our questions, upon the condition that the matter is kept secret! Will you relate what happened last night, Herr Berghof?"

The little man cleared his throat, squinted and nodded politely.

"I am a stranger in Munich, a Swiss, from Basle, but I have much interest in the Socialist cause. Democracy is very near my heart and if I can help-"

He glanced at Rowland, who had risen, his patience nearly exhausted.

"You will please proceed directly to the matter in hand," said Senf placidly. "Fräulein Korasov came to the Bayrischer Hof last night-?"

Zoya Rochal shot a triumphant glance at Rowland but his gaze was fixed on Berghof.

"Yes, Herr Senf," the man replied, "I am connected with the management of the hotel. At about eleven, with a gentleman who called himself Herr Hochwald-"

"Hochwald!" muttered Rowland in surprise.

"That was the name-the name also given by the gentleman awaiting him in the south drawing room-who said he was expecting his arrival."

"Ah, I see."

"Fräulein Korasov was taken at once to a room, number two hundred and twenty-one, upon the second floor. She carried a large suit-case. I myself conducted Herr Hochwald to the south drawing room where a visitor was awaiting him. They sat conversing at once in a low tone of voice. As I was not wanted I gave Herr Hochwald the key to his room which was upon the third floor of the hotel, at some distance from that occupied by Fräulein Korasov."

"I see. And then?"

"And then? Nothing. I went to sleep. I was very tired. You must understand, Herr Senf, we are very lacking in service at the hotel and upon the day before I had been on duty-"

"Proceed, Herr Berghof," growled Liederman. "At what time did you see Herr Hochwald again?"

"Oh, yes. It must, have been at least an hour or more later. Herr Hochwald, accompanied by Herr Förster, the man who had met him in the south drawing room, came running down the stairs and awoke me, swearing in a manner such as I have thought was only practiced by officers in the army, and demanding to be let at once into room number two hundred and twenty-one. The proceeding was most unusual, especially as Herr Hochwald had been so particular in ordering that Fräulein Korasov was not to be disturbed by anyone. They had knocked upon her door, they said, but had not been able to get a reply and feared that something had happened to the lady. So I procured my ring of pass keys, and followed them up the stairs. The matter was delicate and one which might have involved me in much difficulty with the proprietor of the hotel, but when I hesitated Herr Hochwald raved and swore again, knocking so that others nearby might easily have been awakened, and then, thinking that perhaps something might really have happened to the Fräulein, I found the proper key and opened the door."

The clerk paused to get his breath and Liederman swore softly.

"The Fräulein was sitting upon the edge of the bed, fully dressed," he went on, "as though aroused from a sleep of utter exhaustion. But she gained her dignity and self-possession almost at once and quite naturally, demanded the meaning of the intrusion."

"'The suit-case,' cried Herr Hochwald. 'You have the suit-case here?'"

"Fräulein Korasov looked a little bewildered. 'The suitcase? Yes, I have my suit-case here. But what-?'"

"At that moment Herr Förster espied the bag of Fraulein Korasov upon a table and running across the room fell upon it eagerly, and opened it. There was nothing in it but a few pieces of linen. And Hochwald let forth another of his mad cries."

"'The money,' he said. 'What have you done with the money?'"

"The Fräulein had now risen and stood, very pale and angry."

"'I don't understand you,' she said quietly. 'The money? What should I know about the money?'"

"Herr Hochwald stood a moment, his face working, trying to compose himself. And then turning to the officer who stood uncertainly, 'Search the room,' he ordered, 'everywhere. It must be here.'"

"Fräulein Korasov stood immovable. 'It is a pity, Herr Hochwald,' she said coolly, 'that you have neither honor nor decency.'"

"'What have you done with it?' he went on, trying to keep his composure, 'tell me now, and all may yet be well.'"

"'I know nothing,' she replied."

"Herr Hochwald stared at her a moment and then, as though to himself. 'This is a grave matter. We shall take further steps.' And seeing me standing beside the door, he seemed suddenly to realize that I had seen and heard all that had happened, for he frowned and ordered me from the room."

"'Go,' he muttered, 'and order a cab-at once. Fräulein Korasov, you will descend with me. Herr Förster, you will stay, continue the search and question the servants. You have full authority. It is understood?'"

"'At your orders, Herr Hochwald,' said the other."

"That was all I heard, for I went below and ordered the cab, into which Herr Hochwald and the Fräulein entered and were driven away."

The man paused and there was a moment of silence, when a storm of questions assailed him.

"The directions to the driver," cried Liederman.

"Herr Förster found nothing?" asked Zoya Rochal.

"The servants were questioned?" demanded Senf.

"I did not hear the directions to the driver," said Berghof, with a shifting glance at Rowland. "The man who conducted the Fräulein to her room could shed no light upon the matter."

"But you. Did Herr Förster not question you?" asked Rowland keenly.

"Yes. He questioned this morning, and I answered him. It is not healthy not to answer the questions of one in such authority."

There was another silence, baffled it seemed on the part of the questioners. Herr Berghof took up his hat and rose. Rowland no longer smiled. Liederman rocked to and fro from one foot to the other by the mantel-shelf. Zoya Rochal nervously lighted a cigarette.

"One moment, Herr Berghof," said Rowland, whose mind had been tracing the interstices of the puzzle in his own American way. "You say that this Herr Förster has questioned the servants of the hotel?"

Herr Berghof hesitated a moment.

"One or two only. What was the use? The Fräulein had been there but an hour or more."

"But you seem to forget that in that hour much happened," said Rowland. "If that money was taken from the valise of Herr Hochwald, it was taken before he reached the hotel, not afterward. If Fräulein Korasov took it-ah-" He paused a moment, then went on quickly, "She had a valise, you say. Empty?"

Herr Berghof hesitated again and shot a quick glance over his shoulder toward the closed door behind him. But Rowland had risen and now stood beside it.

"You say the suit-case was empty?" repeated Rowland sternly.

Berghof swallowed uneasily.

"Except for one or two articles of apparel-yes."

"Then where did the other bag come from?" asked Rowland suddenly.

Berghof's little eyes squinted rapidly and he moistened his lips nervously.

"The other one?"

"The one in which the money was removed?"

"I-I don't understand."

"Follow me closely, Herr Berghof. You have said that Fräulein Korasov carried her suit-case to her room. Were there servants to perform that service?"

"Yes."

"Fräulein Korasov had the money in that suit-case. Herr Hochwald knew that she had taken it, or he would not have gone to her room at night with you and forced the door. She did take it. But who helped her?"

"I'm sure I-"

"Are there bells in the bed-rooms?"

"Yes, but-"

"Where do they ring?"

"Er-in the office. It is an English system-"

"Were there any calls between eleven and half-past twelve?"

Rowland was shooting his questions at the bewildered clerk like thunderbolts, and the man seemed to have grown more and more anxious.

"Calls? I dropped into a doze in my chair, as I have said. I cannot-"

"Think-!"

"Yes, a call or two-but I was half asleep-"

"A call-who answered it?"

Berghof rubbed his head with unsteady fingers but replied with reluctance.

"Yes. There was a call."

"Did you answer it?"