The Golden Bough

"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.

Herr Benz introduced him quickly to a man young Benz had brought with him.

"This is the Government telegraph officer at Starnberg station-but a friend, Herr Rowland. He brings you a message from Georg Senf."

"A message-!"

"I know nothing of this matter," said the man in uniform. "The message was in cipher. It is this: 'Herr Berghof was murdered this afternoon. No clues. No trace of bag.'"

Berghof murdered! Rowland questioned the man eagerly.

"At what time did this message arrive?"

"Less than half an hour ago."

"It came by private code?"

"Yes, from Herr Weiss."

"I see. I owe you many thanks."

"I would do more if I could. But I must return at once."

"Go then. You will be on duty later?"

"Until morning, Herr Rowland."

"Good. I may have a message to send."

The man bowed and departed with the younger Benz, while Rowland watched them in silence until their figures were merged into the night.

Berghof murdered! By whom? And why? The answers to these questions were obvious if he chose to follow the train of thought that was uppermost in his mind. Had Hochwald killed him? Or Förster? or another agent of von Stromberg? The motive one of two things, to secure the black bag filled with the bank notes which Berghof had taken, or to silence a tongue which had already spoken too much. Or perhaps both. Whatever the facts, the death of the man with the squint was eloquent of the fact that Rowland had not been far wrong in his deductions. Herr Berghof had paid the penalty-either of cupidity or disloyalty to those who employed him. In any event it was clear that if the black bag had ever been in his possession it had now passed to a confederate-or to Gregory Hochwald! And therefore if-

A warning sound from Herr Benz brought his speculations to a close for from within the grounds they had just left came the sound of an approaching motor car.

"It must have been hidden in the porte-cochère," Benz was muttering. "I did not see it."

As the machine approached, they walked toward it and it passed them at a rapid rate going in the direction of the village. Just one glimpse they had of the occupants, a chauffeur and a man wearing a cap, sitting in the shadow of the curtains in the tonneau and smoking a cigarette. Who was he? It was impossible to tell. But to Rowland's keen eyes the figure seemed strangely like that of Herr Hochwald.

Imagination? Perhaps. Rowland's interest in the villa Monteori was now such that he was ready to think anything that would confirm his growing belief that here was the prison of Tanya Korasov. Herr Benz too shared his excitement. Herr Hochwald hurrying to the Committee meeting he had called! The thing hung together. There were few enough motor cars in the Empire, and all those not in use by officials of Munich had been put into requisition for military purposes. There was but one machine in Starnberg, an ancient affair which could only be hired at a price beyond the means of any but the most wealthy of the town. He had seen a machine this afternoon rapidly passing his bakery which was on the highway to Munich-was it this very machine? It had a top like this, a chauffeur and one man sat within. He had commented upon its passage to his boy. The young fellow, who shared the mystery of their search, now voluntarily cleared their minds of doubt, for with that omniscience in all things which pertain to makes of cars, he ventured in a guarded tone-

"It is the very machine which came from Munich this afternoon."

"How do you know?" asked Rowland, eagerly.

"It's a Mercedes, sir," he said. "I know it by the shape of the hood."

If a machine went back and forth between the Villa Monteori and the city of Munich it was doubtless because of urgent affairs in which some official empowered to use automobiles was involved. Who but Hochwald? And what affairs, unless those of Tanya and the black bag of the Bayrischer Hof? Rowland had reached the point where he felt that he must leap at a conclusion of some sort. At any rate there were two men the less at the Villa Monteori and it was time to risk everything in an effort to bring this adventure to a conclusion whether in failure or success.

Rowland planned rapidly. A short distance below them there was a cross road which led down to the lake, at the foot of which in the dusk of the evening he had noticed a small pier or jetty near which a number of canoes, sailboats and row-boats were moored. He proposed to take one of these boats and under cover of the darkness, row down in the shadow of the bank to the stone steps of the villa which led from the terrace wall to the water. As the sky had now become cloudy and the night quite dark it would thus be possible to come unnoticed much nearer to the house than if he attempted to enter by the road or to cross the lawns where the stone wall must be climbed. Herr Benz would wait in the Pavilion which seemed to be deserted. If Rowland did not return before ten o'clock he was to take another row-boat with the other two men whom young Benz had gone to fetch from Starnberg and follow.

Benz demurred at first, professing a desire to share his dangers, but at last consented to the arrangement, and Rowland embarked and set off upon his solitary venture. As it was still early there were many young people out on the lake in canoes and sailboats returning to shore and the sounds of their voices came softly across the water.

Their presence in the neighborhood was reassuring and likely to distract the attention of any visitors at the Villa Monteori. Rowland slipped slowly down under the very shadow of the terrace wall where his boat drifted in close to the steps where Rowland listened for a long moment, and then fastened the painter to a ring in the wall and disembarked.

He had determined to enter this house and search it from top to bottom, regardless of consequences. A fool's errand? Perhaps; for he had little evidence to confirm his theory which after all had been born more of hope and desperation than any proof. And yet the chance was worth taking for at the best it meant merely a discussion with an irascible and asthmatic watchman; at the worst perhaps an encounter with a government official who had a private commission, with which he could have no concern, and this meant a rapid retreat and the saving of his skin. But the death of Berghof and the passage of the mysterious automobile from what was reported to be an untenanted house, had seemed to point him a way which he couldn't ignore. If Tanya were here the element of surprise would be in his favor, and as his head reached the level of the top of the steps, where he paused for a long moment of inspection of the house, he saw no indication of watchfulness on the part of those within. There were a rustic table and a number of benches and chairs upon the terrace, and crawling up on his hands and knees he hid himself behind a bench where he could examine the lower floor of the house at closer quarters.

There was a loggia enclosed in glass just before him. Within, in the main body of the house, a light was burning. At some risk of detection from the windows above he moved closer and quickly rising, turned the knob of the glass door. To his surprise it yielded and without hesitation he entered, closing it softly behind him.

"Careless beggars, to forget there was a lake," he muttered.

Rowland's spirits were fast rising, and his fingers were itching for a grip on something tangible, preferably the Adam's apple of Khodkine-Hochwald. Denied that, anyone else's would do. But a disappointment awaited him here, for the door to the main body of the house was locked. He drew aside into the shelter of the wall and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not so dull, after all," he said to himself. "But I'll make it, if it takes the butt of an automatic."