The Golden Bough

"No. It is the duty of the valet or night porter."

"Did the night porter go?"

"I-I presume so."

"The night porter! What is his name?"

Herr Berghof now seemed truly alarmed and for a moment refused to reply.

"What is his name?" thundered Rowland.

"Drelich!" said Berghof sullenly.

"Is he on duty now?"

"No."

"Can you find him?"

"No."

"You shall try. I will go with you. He is the man who has taken the money."

Liederman and Senf who had followed the rapid deductions of the American with astonishment, rose eagerly and Zoya Rochal laughed her admiration.

"You are right," said Senf.

"It is worth trying," muttered Liederman.

"There is no time to be lost," said Rowland quickly. And then to Senf, "Have your men been sent to trace the cab?"

"No, Herr Rowland-since the money was the most important-"

Rowland reached down into his pocket, pulled forth the talisman of Nemi and crashed it down upon the table.

"If there's any virtue in this-if Nemi is anything but an empty word-if its leader is your master as well as your slave, then do as I command," he said sternly.

Herr Senf gazed at the coin and then looked up at the dominating figure before him.

"What more can I do-"

"Find me the man who drove that cab," said Rowland. "And you, Herr Liederman-give me money. I need it."

Max Liederman glanced at Zoya Rochal, then at Rowland, and without a word obeyed.

"I will go with you, Herr Rowland," said Zoya Rochal decisively.

But Rowland was already out of the door, his hand on Herr Berghof's arm.

Georg Senf ran his fingers through his long hair and looked at Liederman as Rowland went out.

"If we have longed for a leader, Herr Liederman, the God of Democracy has sent us one. Some of his fire has got into my ancient bones. I will follow and obey."

Liederman grunted and glanced at the door through which Zoya Rochal had departed.

"He is keen," he muttered grudgingly.

"Moreover, his judgment is excellent. Our case falls without Fräulein Korasov. We must find her. I myself will go to the cab stand in the Maximilian Strasse. Call Herr Hoffner if you please and I will give him instructions."

In the meanwhile Rowland and Zoya Rochal with Herr Berghof found a cab. The Swiss, at first sullen and inclined to balk Rowland's plans, was speedily brought into submission by the American's determined attitude and the exhibition of an automatic, the mere sight of which made him become more obliging and cheerful. And they found the lodgings of the porter Drelich at last, and Drelich himself quite drunk upon his bed in his room. But he became more sober and quite alarmed when the purpose of the visit was disclosed to him. He was a man of sixty, servile of manner but at first furtive and obstinate, giving evasive replies. But Zoya Rochal, who was resourceful, informed him that she was an agent of the Government and the man collapsed.

"Against my better judgment, I did it, Fräulein," he stammered. "Money is not made so easily nowadays."

"Fräulein Korasov gave you money?" asked Rowland eagerly.

"Five hundred marks. I give it to you. Here it is," and with trembling hands he brought it forth from a greasy note book in his pocket.

"Tell us what you did and you may keep this money," said Rowland quickly.

Drelich straightened hopefully and looked from one to the other.

"I did this thing in ignorance. How could I know that the Fräulein was working against the interests of the Fatherland?"

"Speak-what happened?" ordered Rowland.

"I was called to the office by Herr Berghof to reply to a call upon the indicator. He will tell you that. I noted the number and went to room Number two twenty-one. The Fräulein within looked out at me and I could see that she was very much disturbed. Then she called me within the room and shut the door behind me. As the lock caught I too was startled for I could not know what was to happen. She produced from the pocket of her coat this note which she held up that I might look. 'I want a suit-case or a bag of the size of this one,' said she. 'Bring it here at once and obey my further instructions and I will give you the money.' I remembered that there were some old suit-cases in the porter's room-long unclaimed and it did not take me more than a few minutes to unlock one of them with my keys, to empty it and return to room Number two twenty-one. I am sure that I have done nothing which could put me under suspicion of having done other than a service to a guest of the hotel."

"Go on," urged Zoya, as the man paused.

"The Fräulein took the suit-case into the bath room and in a moment brought it forth and handed it to me. It was very heavy but that was none of my business."

"What did you do with it?"

"My instructions were to take it to the Haupt Bahnhof and leave it in the check-room, returning with the check which I was to give to her, provided I had an opportunity to hand it to her unobserved. So I told Herr Berghof that I was taking a bag to the station and carried it there."

"Ah! You told Herr Berghof that and when you returned you gave her the ticket?" asked Rowland excitedly.

"There was no chance. When I returned to the Hotel and went up the servants' stairs to the second floor I heard a loud commotion in the corridor and peering out saw Herr Berghof and another gentleman standing before the door of the Fräulein, knocking and shouting. Then I knew that it was best for me to remain silent. So I went to Herr Berghof reporting that I was sick and went out of the hotel and-then I think that I drank more than was good for me-for I have slept until just now when you awakened me."

"Did anyone come to your room while you slept?"

"How should I know? No one comes here."

"No one could have taken the ticket for the bag?"

The man looked bewildered.

"I don't know-"

"The ticket-the check for the bag," shouted Zoya, mad with excitement.

"It is here-" he said. And fingering stupidly in his waistcoat pocket Drelich produced an oblong slip of card board.

"The Haupt Bahnhof," cried Rowland. "Come-"

And dragging the unfortunate Drelich by the arm before he had a chance even to take up his cap, Rowland turned toward where Herr Berghof had stood beside the door.

The man had disappeared.

A blank look came into Rowland's face, followed by a sudden frown, as he cursed himself for his stupidity in not keeping better watch. But there was no time to spare and pushing Drelich before him into the waiting cab in a moment he and Zoya Rochal were driving post haste to the Railway station.

"Was the bag locked?" asked Zoya eagerly.

"I don't know."

"We shall find it," muttered Rowland between set teeth.

"Monsieur Rowland!" said Zoya, smiling at him joyously, "you are quite the most wonderful man in all the world. Accept my congratulations."

"Wait-" said Rowland shortly.

As they drove up to the station Rowland leaped out and still holding Drelich by the arm hurried toward the parcel room, Zoya Rochal breathlessly following.

At the window, his heart leaping with suspense, Rowland presented the ticket to the baggage agent, who with maddening deliberation moved slowly along an aisle, whistling and peering to right and left. Zoya, her hand trembling on Rowland's arm, watched the leisurely movements of the official, like Rowland a prey to maddening incertitude. They saw the man go down the aisle looking at bag after bag, finally picking out a bright yellow suit case, bringing it forth and laying it upon the counter.

Rowland glanced at Drelich who was staring at the new bag stupidly. But compelled by Rowland's gaze he frowned and whispered,

"It is not the bag-"

"It's not the bag!" repeated Rowland. "There's some mistake here."

The official scratched his head and frowned.

"That is strange. It is impossible that our checking system should err."

"But it has erred," roared Rowland. "It was this man himself who brought the bag here-this office which gave him the ticket. Is it not so?" to Drelich.

"That is true. A black bag, old, plastered with labels-"

"We never make mistakes," broke in the official with rising anger. "Our records show that this is your bag. You must take it."

Rowland could have laughed in the man's face, but instead he raised his voice again, while the fingers of Zoya Rochal closed upon his arm and he realized that a crowd was gathering.

"Will you not let this man look and see if he can discover my property?" he asked more quietly.

"Verboten," said the official shortly, and turning on his heel, walked back to the records of the system which could not err.

There seemed to be nothing to do but take the yellow suit-case to the cab and depart. Somewhat bewildered by this ill turn of fortune, which could not be explained Rowland took up the bag dejectedly and was about to lead the way to the door when he felt Zoya Rochal's fingers fiercely clutch his elbow. She stopped, her face blanching, her eyes staring wildly at a tall figure in a military uniform who stood before her.

The man was very erect and quite old, his face graven with innumerable fine wrinkles which just now had broken into a cynical smile.

"My compliments, Madame," said a thin crisp voice. "It is a great pleasure to meet you here, so unexpectedly."

Zoya Rochal had recovered herself instantly and forced a laugh.

"You-Herr General! It is-a great pleasure-"

"You grow more beautiful, Madame-with every year. A little pale-perhaps-but it becomes you, like the blossoms upon a meadow in June. You are quite well?"

"Ah, quite, Herr General-"

"It seemed to me that perhaps you were a little nervous."

"It is so long since I have seen you. I thought perhaps that you might be angry at my failure last year-"

"Angry? I? One cannot expect to succeed always." And then, with a malicious grin, "You are not engaged in any propaganda dangerous to the Fatherland?"

"Ah. You-you are unkind. Have I not-?"

"Women are the only uncertain quantity in the world equation," he said slowly, his eyes peering down at her. Then turning to Rowland, he asked quickly, "Your companion is harmless?"

Rowland, who had stood uneasily, bag in hand, now found refuge in a smile.

"Harmless-yes," stammered Zoya. "Herr Leo Knaus-Herr General Graf-"

"No names, Madame," broke in the tall officer with a smile. "Good-bye-and remember that Argus had a hundred eyes-"

And with one keen look which seemed to sweep them both comprehendingly, from top to toe, the Herr General clicked his heels and departed. Zoya Rochal remained as though frozen to the floor, looking after him. Rowland caught her by the arm and moved slowly toward the door.

"Sardonic old pelican!" he said with a grin. "Would you mind telling me who in the devil-?"

"The devil himself," she broke in, with a stifled voice. "Graf von Stromberg!"

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-"