The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile "Sapper". Sapper
are we to remain in your power? This is the second time that you have impersonated my husband. I tell you when I heard that young man speaking this morning, and knew how near he was to the truth almost did I tell him."
"But not quite. Not quite, Frau Scheidstrun. You are no fool; you know what would have happened if you had. I still hold the proofs of your husband's unfortunate slip a year or two ago."
His eyes were boring into her, and once again she shuddered.
"I shall impersonate your husband when and where I please," he continued, "if it suits my convenience. I regard him as one of my most successful character-studies."
His tone changed; he was the benevolent old gentleman again. "Come, come, my dear Frau Scheidstrun," he remarked affably, "you take an exaggerated view of things. After all, the damage to your husband's nose is slight, considering the far-reaching results obtained by letting that young man pull it. All his suspicions are allayed; he merely thinks he's made a profound ass of himself. Which is just as it should be. Moreover, with the mark in its present depreciated state, I think the cheque I propose to hand to your husband for the trouble he has taken will ease matters in the housekeeping line."
He rose from his chair chuckling.
"Well, I think that is all. As I said before, you will attend the funeral this afternoon. Such a performance does not call for conversation, and so it will not be necessary for me to prime you with anything more than you know already. Your brother-scientists, who will doubtless be there in force, you will know how to deal with far better than I, seeing that I should undoubtedly fail to recognise any of them. And should Drummond be there—well, my dear fellow, I leave it to your sense of Christian decency as to how you treat him. In the presence of—ah—death"—the old gentleman blew his nose—"a policy of kindly charity is, I think, indicated. Anyway, don't, I beg of you, so far forget yourself as to pull his nose. For without your wife to protect you I shudder to think what the results might be."
He smiled genially as he lit a cigar.
"And you," said the German, "you do not the funeral attend?"
"My dear Professor," murmured the other, "you surprise me. In what capacity do you suggest that I should attend this melancholy function? Even the mourners might be a trifle surprised if they saw two of us there. And as Mr William Robinson—my present role—I had not the pleasure of the deceased gentleman's acquaintance. No; I am going into the country to join my brother—the poor fellow is failing a little mentally. Freyder will make all arrangements for your departure tomorrow, and so I will say good-bye. You have committed to memory—have you not?—the hours and days when you did things in London before you arrived? And destroyed the paper? Good; a document of that sort is dangerous. Finally, Professor, don't forget your well-known reputation for absent-mindedness and eccentricity. Should anyone ask you a question about your doings in London which you find difficult to answer, just give your celebrated imitation of a windmill and say nothing. I may remark that if Freyder's telephone report to me is satisfactory this evening, I shall have no hesitation in doubling the amount I suggested as your fee."
With a wave of his hand he was gone, and Professor Scheidstrun and his wife watched the big car drive away from the door.
"Gott im Himmel," muttered the German. "But the man is a devil."
"His money is far from the devil," replied his wife prosaically. "If he doubles it, we shall have five hundred pounds. And five hundred pounds will be very useful just now."
But her husband was not to be comforted. "I am frightened, Minna," he said tremulously. "We know not what we are mixed up in. He has told us nothing as to why he is doing all this."
"He has told us all that he wishes us to know," answered his wife.
"That is his way."
"Why he is dressed up like that?" continued the Professor. "And how did Goodman really die?" He stared fearfully at his wife. "Blown up? Yes. But—by whom?"
"Be silent, Heinrich," said his wife, but fear was in her eyes too. "It is not good to think of these things. Let us have lunch, and then you must go to the funeral. And after that he will send us the money, as he did last time, and we will go back to Dresden. Then we will pray the good God that he will leave us alone."
"What frightens me, Minna, is that it is I who am supposed to have been with Goodman on the afternoon it happened. And if the police should find out things, what am I to say? Already there are people who suspect that big man this morning, for instance. How am I to prove that it was not I, but that devil made up to look like me? Mein Gott, but he is clever. I should not have hidden myself away as he told me to do in his letter."
"He would have found out if you hadn't," said his wife. "He knows everything."
"There was no one who saw us start," went on the German excitedly. "At least no one who saw me start. You they saw—but me, I was smuggled into the aeroplane. Everything is accounted for by that devil. It is impossible for me to prove an alibi. For four days I have concealed myself; our friends all think, as you told them, that I have gone to England. They think you follow, and they will see us return. Would anyone believe us if now we said it was all a lie? They would say—why did you remain hidden? What was the object of all this deceit? And I—what can I say? That I am in the power of someone whom, to save my life, I cannot describe. No one would believe me; it would make my position worse." He grew almost hysterical in his agitation.
"There is one comfort, my dear," said his wife soothingly. "As long as everyone believes that it was you who was with Professor Goodman they are not likely to suspect very much. For foul play there must be a motive, and there could be no motive in your case. No, Heinrich, that devil has foreseen everything. No one was suspicious except the big man this morning, and now he is suspicious no longer. All that we have to do is just what we are told, and we shall be safe. But, mein Gott, I wish that we were on board that foul machine again, even though I shall assuredly be sick the whole way."
The worthy woman rose and placed a hand like a leg of mutton on her husband's shoulder. "Lunch," she continued. "And then you must go to the funeral, while I await you here."
And so an hour later Professor Scheidstrun, fortified by a most excellent meal, chartered a taxi and drove off to attend the ceremony.
After all, his wife was a woman of sound common sense, and there was much in what she said. Moreover, five hundred pounds was not obtained every day. With his usual diabolical cleverness that man, whose real name even he did not know, had so arranged things that his scheme would succeed. He always did succeed; this would be no exception. And provided the scheme was successful, he personally would be safe.
He stepped out at the church door and paid his fare. A celebrated Scotch chemist whom he knew, and who was entering the church at the same moment, stopped and spoke a few words with him, and for a while they stood chatting on the pavement outside. Then the Scotchman moved away, and the Professor was about to enter the church when someone touched him on the arm.
He turned to find a young man, wearing an eyeglass, whom he had never seen before in his life.
"Afternoon, Professor," said the young man.
The Professor grunted. Who on earth was this? Some relative presumably of the dead man.
"You don't seem to remember me," went on the young man slowly. The fact was hardly surprising, but mindful of his instructions the German waved his arms vaguely and endeavoured to escape into the church. But the young man, whose eyes had narrowed suddenly, was not to be shaken off quite so easily.
"One moment, Professor," he said quietly. "Do you remember me?" Again the German grunted unintelligibly, but his brain was working quickly. Obviously this young man knew him; therefore he ought obviously to know the young man.
"Ja," he grunted, "I haf met you, but I know not where."
"Don't you remember coming round to Captain Drummond's house yesterday afternoon?" went on the other.
"Of course," said the Professor, beginning to feel firm ground again. "It was there that we did meet."
"That's