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Page 58
I had left my hat and coat in the entrance hall downstairs. I put on my
coat, then went to Monica in the morning-room.
There was much she wanted to say--I could see it in her eyes--but I
think she gathered from my face what I was going to do, so she said
nothing.
At the door I said aloud, for the benefit of Josef, who was on the
stairs:
"Very good, my lady. I will come straight back from the embassy and then
go with Josef to the police."
The next moment I was adrift in Berlin.
CHAPTER XIII
I FIND ACHILLES IN HIS TENT
Outside darkness had fallen. I had a vague suspicion that the
house might be watched, but I found the Bendler-Strasse quite
undisturbed. It ran its quiet, aristocratic length to the tangle of
bare branches marking the Tiergarten-Strasse with not so much as
a dog to strike terror into the heart of the amateur spy. Even in the
Tiergarten-Strasse, where the Jewish millionaires live, there was little
traffic and few people about, and I felt singularly unromantic as I
walked briskly along the clean pavements towards Unter den Linden.
Once more the original object of my journey into Germany stood clearly
before me. An extraordinary series of adventures had deflected me from
my course, but never from my purpose. I realized that I should never
feel happy in my mind again if I left Germany without being assured as
to my brother's fate. And now I was on the threshold either of a great
discovery or of an overwhelming disappointment.
For the street called In den Zelten was my next objective. I knew I
might be on the wrong track altogether in my interpretation of what I
was pleased to term in my mind the message from Francis. If I had read
it falsely--if, perhaps, it were not from him at all--then all the hopes
I had built on this mad dash into the enemy's country would collapse
like a house of cards. Then, indeed, I should be in a sorry pass.
But my luck was in, I felt. Hitherto, I had triumphed over all
difficulties. I would trust in my destiny to the last.
I had taken the precaution of turning up my overcoat collar and of
pulling my hat well down over my eyes, but no one troubled me. I
reflected that only Clubfoot and Schmalz were in a position to recognize
me and that, if I steered clear of places like hotels and restaurants
and railway stations, where criminals always seem to be caught, I might
continue to enjoy comparative immunity. But the trouble was the passport
question. That reminded me.
I must get rid of Semlin's passport. As I walked along I tore it into
tiny pieces, dropping each fragment at a good interval from the other.
It cost me something to do it, for a passport is always useful to flash
in the eyes of the ignorant. But this passport was dangerous. It might
denounce me to a man who would not otherwise recognize me.
I had some difficulty in finding In den Zelten. I had to ask the way,
once of a postman and once of a wounded soldier who was limping along
with crutches. Finally, I found it, a narrowish street running off a
corner of the great square in front of the Reichstag. No. 2 was the
second house on the right.
I had no plan. Nevertheless, I walked boldly upstairs. There was but one
flat on each floor. At the third story I halted, rather out of breath,
in front of a door with a small brass plate inscribed with the name
"Eugen Kore." I rang the bell boldly.
An elderly man-servant opened the door.
"Is Herr Eugen Kore at home?" I asked.
The man looked at me suspiciously.
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