Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery a novel
to go in the hope of meeting the sandy-bearded man again and seeing
him play, for he was desirous of atoning for his shortcomings of the
previous evening, which had left a painful impression upon his mind. He
would have liked to meet Basch again and talk to him about the evils of
gambling, from which he had suffered so much. He went, therefore, just
as he was.
It was already late when he got there. Hull was present, but he saw
neither the fair-bearded stranger nor Basch. He only heard that the
former had left immediately after him, a fact which all had noticed.
After he left, Basch had remained sitting as if utterly prostrate. He
had not played again, and suddenly he vanished. No one knew him well.
He had never been to Schramm’s before.
The lady who sat behind him estimated that his losses must have been
thirty to thirty-five thousand marks. The blond stranger had won it
all, but he did not win until he began to hold the bank. Everything had
been absolutely in order. The attendant who furnished the cards was
thoroughly reliable.
While talking about the previous night’s play they stopped their game.
Then Cara said:
“There are people who are born players, and if they take only one card
in their hands it is sure to be an ace. They can do what they like;
the power is stronger than they are; it is their guiding spirit, their
God.”
But Elsie did not agree with her. She thought that every player once
in his life came upon a series of lucky days. They lay stretched out
before him, handed to him by his good fairy, for every man had a good
fairy. One must not give up expecting to meet with those times of good
fortune, for one day one could gather in the winnings as quickly as
ripe apples in the autumn....
No one knew the man with the sandy beard. Basch had brought him to
Schramm’s, and the first evening they had gone away together. He might
be a dethroned prince, he was so imperious and abrupt in his speech. A
dethroned prince in want of money, no doubt.
“I have a strange feeling,” said Hull, “as if I had already played
against him once....”
“Nonsense!” said Cara.
In his mind the fancy grew stronger. “It is not so much that I have
played with him, but as if he had done me some very serious internal
injury, affecting my very blood; but how, and when, and where, I have
no idea. It must have been in a dream.”
“He has evil eyes,” said a woman’s voice, which Wenk seemed to
recognize. He looked in that direction, but with the bright light on
the table the corner seemed as dark as a cave and he could descry no
one.
Cara answered the voice in the darkness in a tone that seemed to have
anger in it: “Evil eyes! What do you mean by that? Surely at the
gaming-table no one looks like a saint!”
From the corner there came the words, “He seemed to look at Basch like
a beast of prey eyeing his victim!”
“That was exactly the impression he gave me!” exclaimed Wenk.
He at once rose hastily and went to the corner, entered the dark niche
and started back, for the speaker was the beautiful unknown! A glow
suffused Wenk’s features and his heart began to beat violently, as if
its strokes must be heard. Then he pulled himself together, saying, “I
really must be mad! I am searching for a criminal and am about to fall
in love with someone whom I may have to send to prison to-morrow. This
is really idiotic!” He recovered his presence of mind, bowed to the
stranger and said:
“I should be greatly interested, madam, to hear how you reached a
conclusion which so exactly resembles my own?”
“It cannot be anything else,” said the lady, smiling, “than an unusual
evidence of secret sympathy between me and a State official!”
“She knows me, then!” said Wenk to himself in astonishment. “But how
could that come about, except through Cara Carozza? A State official,
guardian and representative of the law, and avenger of any breach of
it, himself violating its rules! It was absolutely fantastic. Yes, it
must have been the Carozza girl.” From the niche he looked into the
brilliantly lighted room, where the dyed tresses of the dancer gleamed
forth between the heads. “So it was you!” he said to himself; “you want
to bring my plans to nought, you good-for-nothing!...”
Then he remembered the glance the blond had given her that first
evening, and he ended, “You are his decoy!” Now he realized the
connection between them. It was the dancer who brought the blond his
victims. He breathed a threat: “Just you wait; I am taking it all in!”
“Our agreement seems to have struck you forcibly,” said the lady,
interrupting his thoughts.
“As a matter of fact, my thoughts were wandering, and I beg your
pardon, madam,” said Wenk; “it is incomprehensible that any strange
influence should be able to intervene in _your_ neighbourhood, but it
can be explained, nevertheless....”
He did not continue. Two ideas suddenly obtruded themselves. This lady
was undoubtedly an excellent observer. If only he could procure her
help! But the other thought stirred his pulses. Why not abandon all
this searching and spying and following after criminals, and strive to
win the love of a woman such as this, beautiful as a queen and stately
as a goddess! Then he felt her touching his arm hastily.
“Don’t speak,” she whispered, “I beg of you!”
At the same moment Wenk saw three gentlemen entering the circle of
light in the room. The first was a young man whom he knew by sight, for
a few days previously he had noticed him at an exhibition of Futurist
paintings, as the buyer of the most unusual and bizarre of these. He
had asked the name of the purchaser, and the attendant had replied,
“Graf Told bought them. There he is,” pointing to the young man, who
had just now entered the room.
“Herr von Wenk,” said the lady in a whisper, “will you do me a great
favour?”
“With pleasure, madam. I am at your command.”
“I am anxious to leave this room within the next few minutes without
being seen. Can you help me to do this?”
“Certainly,” said Wenk.
“How can I accomplish my purpose?”
“That is quite simple. You see the entrance to that staircase; it is
only a few steps to it. You must look at it well, to be able to find it
in the dark. I am certain that I know where the electric light switch
is. It is just over the first section of the stairs. I will go there
and turn it out, and you can make use of the darkness to gain the
staircase. When you have passed me I will stand directly in the way of
anyone who tries to follow you or to reach the switch.”
“Splendid! Thank you very much.”
Her escape was safely made. When Wenk saw the lady had reached the
bottom, he turned the light on again and entered the room with a light
laugh, saying, “Please forgive me; I did it for a joke, and I did not
realize you would be in total darkness.”
They all laughed, but the dancer was standing, pale and disturbed, at
the head of the winding stair, which she had reached at one bound. She
recovered herself quickly and returned to Hull, begging him to drive
her home. Wenk accompanied them.
As they were about to leave the gaming-hall, Wenk saw the head-waiter
hand Hull an envelope. He went to an empty table beneath a lamp, opened
it, and drew out a little note. It seemed as if an invisible thrust
had sent him staggering. Cara went up to him, but he crumpled up the
note, stuffing it into his pocket, and rose and followed the others out.
When they had reached the street they parted, but Hull turned and came
back to Wenk, saying, in a voice trembling with excitement, “I _must_
speak to you. This very night! Can you see me at your rooms in an
hour’s time? It is something horrible; I am being shadowed!”
* * * * *
“Look at this!” said Hull, as he entered Wenk’s rooms an hour later.
With a despairing gesture he flung an envelope on Wenk’s table. The
latter opened it and drew a small card from it. On it there stood:
HERR BALLING,
I O U
20,000 (twenty thousand) marks
payable November 21st, 4 p.m.
EDGAR HULL.
“My I O U,” said Hull in a toneless voice, and after a pause, “Look at
the other side!”
On the reverse side Wenk read: “You are warned. The reason I did not
take your twenty thousand marks is my affair alone. The transaction
lies between you and me. Play is play, and no State Attorney has
anything to do with it.”
Wenk was staggered. “Yes, yes, yes,” he said, and found no other words
to express the storm which raged within him. Then after a while, as he
collected himself, he said:
“We sat near him, you and I! We could have seized him by the arm, one
on each side, you ... and I! Do you understand?”
“I am shadowed!” whispered Hull, who seemed to have no thought of
anything except his immediate danger.
“Do you understand? Do you know who Balling is? Your Balling? your
distinguished old gentleman? It is the man with the fair beard who was
at Schramm’s. He is your Herr Balling! Good heavens!... We could have
put our hands on his shoulder!”
Hull merely gasped. Now he knew why the sandy-bearded man had seemed
familiar to him; his were the large, fierce grey eyes!
“Yes,” he said, “it _is_ the same man!”
“He has disappeared,” exclaimed Wenk; “he no longer comes to Schramm’s.
And as for you, Herr Hull, we shall henceforth have you under our
special care, but you must endeavour to meet our wishes and be
constantly on your guard.”
IV
Hull departed, and Wenk, alone with the impressions which the evening’s
experiences had left on his mind, asked himself, “Why did the fair
unknown try to get away so secretly? Have I made another mistake? Has
my helping her in her flight placed a weapon in the hand which would
strike at me and my work?”
His agitation increased, but he dismissed his doubts of the lady.
No, he felt he could rely upon her. And now the realization of the
connection between Hull and the gambler, and all the other stories
about the latter, set his mind working in a fresh direction, and other
ideas began to develop. He seemed to hear the beating of the wings of
some new and mighty force that was invading his life. Conflicts were
going on in his physical nature, his phantasy, his nervous energy and
endurance. His knowledge of men and his dominion over them were being
put to the test. Thinking fiercely, he smoked cigar after cigar, and
clouds of smoke surrounded him. It was spring-time, storm, sunshine,
and again storm, in his blood. His muscles were engaged in an imaginary
and heroic conflict with mysterious and mighty giants who were seeking
to strangle his fellow-men. He had seized one of them by the false
reddish beard which he had assumed, in semblance of humanity.
From the town, lapped in slumber, it seemed as if the spirit of the age
rushed into his room--an age fraught with dangers, demands, and tension
of all kinds. It demanded men--demanded of all men all their ambition,
self-discipline, intelligence, selflessness ... selflessness. It should
take him! There he was, free alike from arrogance and from indolence!
Might there not be, he asked himself in his ecstatic monologue, a new
democracy which should redeem the past? Was that the goal towards which
the present gloom was leading mankind? Was he rising on the stormy
wave? He would no longer drift along, striving to help his country as a
mere idealist. No, he would stand firm on his feet; struggle, contest,
but not submit! Freed from thoughts of self, he would expend the last
drop of his blood to become what he had learned to be; he would yield
all he had to give, to the very last red drop.
It was not his career that was at stake, but that which all men have in
common, both in conflict with each other and in helping one another.