Wolf Among Wolves (98 page)

“No!” The forester was overwhelmed.

“Yes, my dear Kniebusch,” declared the Rittmeister conclusively. “And since you’ll hear about it tomorrow, I may as well reveal to you that the day after there’s an old comrades’ meeting at Ostade at six in the morning.”

“That’s what I always say,” muttered the forester. “Our troubles will never come to an end.”

“But you must give me your word of honor on the spot that you won’t tell a soul.”

“Of course, Herr Rittmeister, my word of honor. How could I?”

The pair shook hands. Already the Rittmeister felt uncomfortable that he should have talked so much, especially to Kniebusch. But, after all, he had told him nothing he didn’t already know. Or not much more. Anyhow, the forester was in the plot.

Nevertheless an uncomfortable silence fell between them.

Very opportunely a young man came down the corridor, a real dandy, with a little cane and a peaked cap, the sort of fellow one immediately hoped would get three years’ military service. Tapping his cane against the peak of his cap he said: “ ‘Scuse me. Where does one leave the Church here?”

“What?” the Rittmeister almost shouted.

“Where do you leave the Church—it’s here somewhere.”

“Why do you want to leave it?” The Rittmeister was indignant at such an intention on the part of a mere whippersnapper. “And smoking, by the way, is forbidden here.”

“You’ve been lucky then, chief!” said the young fellow, sauntering off down the corridor, cigarette in mouth, quite free and easy.

“Nothing but louts nowadays!” burst out the furious Rittmeister. “Leave the Church! Smoking! That’s what they’re like.” Every moment he was growing more excited, throwing indignant glances at the notices on the walls. If they were only to threaten him and not such louts, they were good for nothing.

“I say, you!” he shouted to the usher who at that moment appeared again like a ghost in the corridor. “When are things going to start here?”

“I’ve already told you that you must wait a little,” said the usher, offended.

“But it should have started at half-past ten and now it’s just on eleven.”

“I have told you that your case will be called.”

“You can’t expect people to sit here for hours,” said the Rittmeister, more and more provoked. “My time is valuable.”

“Yes, but … I know nothing about it,” hesitated the usher, touching his cap. “They said nothing definite about it. Perhaps … Show me your summons.”

“I haven’t been summoned at all,” shouted the insulted Rittmeister. “I’ve only come along with …”

“Have you?” In his turn the usher became angry. “You haven’t been summoned but you can shout at me! Go home if you can’t wait! Things are getting pretty fine nowadays.” And, shaking his head, he shuffled down the corridor.

“I tell you what,” said the Rittmeister, seizing the forester’s arm affectionately. “As a matter of fact the man’s quite right. What’s the good of my sitting here and waiting any longer? He says himself it can be quite a good while yet.”

“But Herr Rittmeister,” implored the old man, “you won’t leave me in the lurch now! I was ever so happy to have met you, and you were going to take up the cudgels for me.…”

“Of course I was, Kniebusch,” said the Rittmeister with all the cordiality associated with a bad conscience. “It’s not my fault. I came along with you at once, and gladly.”

“Herr Rittmeister, wait a little. Perhaps it’s nearly time, and it would be so excellent if …”

“But Kniebusch!” The Rittmeister was reproachful. “You understand the reason. I’m not here in Frankfurt just for my own pleasure. I have to get the car in plenty of time. You know that!”

“But Herr Rittmeister! …”

“No, you must pull yourself together, Kniebusch,” declared the Rittmeister, releasing his arm from the forester’s hand. “Man, an old experienced non-commissioned officer like you—and afraid of a few conceited lawyers! I tell you, Kniebusch, if the case was called this very moment, I’d still go. It’s a good thing for you to face danger once more. You’ve become too soft, man.” And with this Herr von Prackwitz nodded to the forester, curtly yet not without affection, walked down the corridor and disappeared.

Kniebusch, however, sank down on his condemned bench, hid his face in his hands and thought despairingly: They’re all like that, these gentlemen. All promise and all humbug. I told him exactly what my position was, that perhaps I might even go to prison.… But no, he can’t wait to find out; he wants to buy a car. Just as if he couldn’t buy it this afternoon or tomorrow morning! For people like that you risk your good bones and a bullet. I’ll not forget it, though.

“Well, has he gone, your old broomstick?” asked a bumptious voice.

Kniebusch looked up, stupefied. Before him stood a little fellow hideous to look at, with blubber lips and protruding eyeballs behind owl-like glasses, but grandly dressed in a short fur jacket and plus-fours, golf stockings and
brogues. “What are you doing here in the court, Meier?” he asked, adding enviously as he eyed the former bailiff: “Lord, Meier, how do you do it? Every time I see you, you’re looking better off, while our like hardly knows where to get the money to have his shoes soled.”

“Sure,” grinned Meier, “the old head!” And he hit his pear-shaped skull so hard with the palm of his hand that it resounded. “Money’s lying nowadays on the pavement. Do you need some, Kniebusch? I can easily help you out with a few millions or milliards.”

“Money!” groaned the forester. “It’s help I need. My case is on today. I told you about it, the one with Bäumer.”

“Yes, I know all about it, old fellow!” said little Black Meier, laying his hand, glittering with rings, on Kniebusch’s shoulder. “That’s why I’m here. I saw it posted up yesterday in the hall: Criminal case against Kniebusch, private forester from Neulohe, Room 18.… So I thought to myself, You’ve got nothing on, why not go and stand by your old comrade? … And I should have been able to testify what an excellent employee you are.”

“You really are a decent chap, Meier,” said the forester, touched. “I should never have thought you would come to the court for my sake.”

“I don’t mind at all, Kniebusch,” said little Meier complacently. “But I’m not wanted now, of course, when you can drag along such important witnesses as Rittmeister von Prackwitz.”

“But he’s left me in the lurch, Meier,” groaned the forester. “He hadn’t got time to wait a moment, because my case didn’t come up at once. He’s made up his mind to buy a car this very hour.”

“You see, money’s lying on the pavement, Kniebusch.” Little Meier screwed up his eyes. “Even the Rittmeister has money enough for a car.”

“I don’t know whether he’s got money or not. I shouldn’t think so,” said the forester. “Or it’s possible they gave him the money in Berlin.”

“Berlin? Who?”

“Oh, those—you know—the Lieutenant—when you set fire to the pines.”

“Oh, that business!” Meier grinned contemptuously. “That’s all nonsense, Kniebusch. It’s not worth a paper mark.”

“Oh no, Meier. You’ll see, in the next few days. I can’t say anything, though.… I’ve given my word.… I’m not talking!”

“No need to, Kniebusch. Not a word. Though I don’t think it’s very decent of you when you know that I also am very nationalist and would prefer to march against the Reds today rather than tomorrow.”

“I promised most faithfully,” said the forester obstinately. “Don’t be angry, Meier.”

“Good Lord! Why should I be angry?” Meier laughed. “In fact I’m inviting you to lunch; you know, just as before. Rhine wine, champagne, Türkenblut.… Come along, old chap.” And he put his arm through the forester’s and was dragging him away.

“But, Meier!” cried the other in a panic, “I have my case—”

“Come along, come along,” persisted Meier. “Your case? As for that, there’s nothing to stop you having a drink; all the more because of your case.” He looked at the forester triumphantly. “Yes, you old boozer, you! That’s a surprise, eh? If I was as unfriendly as you are, I’d hold my tongue and think: Let him go on sitting there, the old crow—but I’m different. Come along, Kniebusch, and have one.”

“But, Meier—”

“Your case has been dropped, Kniebusch. It’s vanished. It’s blown up, Kniebusch; your case has bolted!”

“Man! Meier!” The forester was almost sobbing.

“Bäumer escaped this morning at nine, Kniebusch!”

“Meier! Young Meier, you’re the best fellow in the world, the only friend I have.” Great tears were rolling down the forester’s cheeks into his beard; he was sobbing so much that Meier clapped him hard on the back. “Is it really true, Meier?”

“I saw it with my own eyes, Kniebusch. He’s a cunning hound, Bäumer, always pretending to be at death’s door. They were going to bring him in an ambulance to the court, and as they came out of the hospital with the stretcher—they hadn’t even strapped him up, the poor chap was so ill—he gave one jump and the attendants went down with the stretcher and he went into the hospital garden. Shouts, chasing.… And I joined in the chase as well, but not in the right direction because I thought: Better for my old friend Kniebusch if they don’t get him.…”

“Meier!”

“Obviously it was a put-up job. You know Bäumer’s had repeated visits in the hospital. There was a car waiting for him.”

“Meier, I’ll never forget what you’ve done, man. You can ask me anything you like.”

“I don’t want to. You don’t have to tell me anything. Only have lunch with me.”

“I’ll tell you everything. The others leave me in the lurch; you’re the only one to help me. What do you want to know, then?”

“I don’t want to know anything—unless you wish to ask me for advice or if you’re worried about the
Putsch
. I’m only too pleased to help. But otherwise—I don’t mind.”

He stopped short. With a superior air he addressed the usher. “Look here, what do you think you’re up to? Letting the old gentleman wait here over an hour when you know very well the chief witness for the prosecution has hopped it.”

“Yes, sir,” said the usher, “but we don’t do things in a hurry here. Officially the case comes on today; officially we don’t know yet of the disappearance of this particular witness.…”

“But don’t you know all this?”

“We’ve known about it for quite a while! The judges have disappeared once again as well.”

“Well, listen now, my man,” said Meier, and the forester was quite enchanted with the unceremonious way in which he treated the court official. “Then my friend can go and wet his whistle to celebrate.…”

“Far as we’re concerned,” said the usher. “If I wasn’t on duty I’d come too.”

“Well, you go along later.” Meier spoke like a prince, bringing out of his fur jacket a ball of carelessly crumpled notes, one of which he withdrew and, pressing it into the usher’s hand, said genteelly: “Good appetite! … Come along now, Kniebusch.” And went off with him.

Enraptured, Kniebusch followed his friend, the only person in the world whom he could really trust.

X

“Aren’t you sending the car back?” asked Frau Eva. It stood in the courtyard and the chauffeur was smoking beside it.

The Rittmeister hesitated a moment. Face to face with his wife, it was not easy to confess the purchase. There would be endless discussion.

“I’ll keep it—just for a few days to begin with,” he said, “The day after tomorrow all kinds of things will be decided, and that includes us.” He addressed the chauffeur. “Finger! Drive to the Villa. I don’t exactly know where we’re going to keep the car the next few days, but we’ll manage somehow. You’ll stay with us at first; my man will show you.”

“Very good, Herr Rittmeister,” replied the chauffeur, opening the door.

Frau Eva eyed the brilliantly finished, softly upholstered monster with a mixture of reluctance, fear and anger. “I can’t understand it,” she murmured as she got in. And she did not sit back in a corner, but bolt upright, despite cushions which invited her to relax.

The car roared out and swung, gently as a cradle, between the cottages. Because of the convicts’ escape and the marching away of the gendarmes,
everyone was out and about, and thus saw the car, the smiling Rittmeister and his very erect wife. She felt that all the windows in the Manor, too, were occupied—it was insupportable. I ought never to have got in this devilish thing, she thought bitterly. Achim has made a fool of himself again, and my parents will think that I agreed to it.

The weeks of separation and the contact with Studmann had had their effect—Frau von Prackwitz had changed too. Before, whenever her husband acted rashly, she thought, “How can I hush this up?” Now she thought, “Nobody should think I’m in agreement.”

“Do you like the car, Eva?”

“I should like you please to explain to me, Achim,” she said hotly, “what all this means. Is this car …?”

The Rittmeister tapped the chauffeur on the back. “Now straight ahead. Yes, the white house in front on the right.… It’s a Horch. Do you notice how smooth she is? Does twenty-eight to the gallon, no, twenty-five.… I’ve forgotten exactly, but it’s all the same.”

With a hoot the car swept up to the Villa.

“There’ll have to be a drive here,” said the Rittmeister, lost in his thoughts.

“What!” Frau Eva started. “For a few days! I thought you had hired it only for a few days.”

Violet came running from the house.

“Oh, Papa! Papa! You’ve come back?” She embraced her father; he couldn’t get out of the car quickly enough. “Have you bought it? Oh, how smart! What make is it? How fast can it go? Have you also learned to drive? Let me just sit in it, Mamma.”

“There!” said the Rittmeister reproachfully to his wife. “That’s what I call pleasure.… Violet, be so good as to take Herr Finger to Hubert. He’s to have the little spare room in the attic for the moment. The car can stay here for the time being. Eva, please.”

“Now, Achim,” said Frau Eva, really upset. “Please explain to me what all this means.” She sat down.

The worse the Rittmeister’s conscience, the more amiable his manner. He, who could not bear even a hasty word in his presence, was now all softness before his wife’s bad temper. It was precisely this, however, which made things look dubious to her.