CHAPTER XIV

THE CLUE

The shock of Madame Rochal's announcement took Rowland's breath away. If they had needed any explanation of the disappearance of the black bag, here surely was one which would have satisfied the most exacting. Von Stromberg--head of the Prussian secret service--the most hated, the most feared man in all Europe!

The jig was up. Rowland shrugged, making up his mind to bluff it out to the end, and so with his hand on Zoya's nerveless arm, walked with an appearance of great carelessness toward the door of the station, beyond which their cab was awaiting them. An official stood near the door and a soldier nearby but when Rowland reached the man, he merely preened at his mustache and smiled at Zoya. They reached the door. Still no arrest. The thing was interesting. What was the game? In the doorway Rowland stopped, put down the bag and in spite of the whispers of Zoya Rochal deliberately faced the door while he lighted a cigarette. The official had turned his back. The soldier had walked away.

He was frankly puzzled. It hadn't needed a great deal of imagination on Rowland's part to convince him that if Herr General von Stromberg had been instrumental in the theft of the bag, there was very little time left to Rowland in which to say his prayers. By all the rules of the game, he should already have been arrested, inside of twenty minutes he should be in a prison and tomorrow morning he should be shot. But here he was free, carrying the odious yellow suit-case and getting into a cab, under the very eyes of the very person who had most to lose by his liberty. Had Efficiency slipped a cog? Or was there a motive behind this astonishing leniency? Or--still more surprising--was von Stromberg as innocent as he and Zoya as to the whereabouts of the bag of the Bayrischer Hof? Indeed he was almost ready to believe so.

He turned again at the door of the cab and slowly gave directions to drive to the house of Georg Senf and then, while the pallid Zoya beseeched him frantically to hurry, he got into the cab and sank beside her.

If von Stromberg was the man who had found the money why, with all the authority he possessed, had he not arrested Drelich, Berghof, Liederman, Zoya Rochal and Rowland, put them in prison and discussed the matter afterwards? What was the meaning of this extraordinary consideration? Was it due to the nature of the business in hand,--a desire to keep secret the dark business of the theft of the funds of Nemi which would antagonize the small army of Socialists in Munich who were growing in power in the message they were sending across the breadth of the nation? Or was von Stromberg waiting until all the cards should be in his own hand, when he would play them to win?

Indeed, if the millions of bank-notes were already in his possession, it seemed that von Stromberg had already won and could afford to laugh at Herr Senf and all his followers. And yet if this man of mystery and power already knew so much why had not Rowland already been imprisoned as an alien enemy and a spy?

To this mental question there were two answers--the first the obvious one that Gregory Hochwald had not believed that Rowland, the escaped prisoner from a German camp, would dare to risk his life again following the fortunes of Nemi into the heart of the enemy's country, and that von Stromberg had accepted this opinion; the second, that General von Stromberg had just descended from his train from Berlin and knew nothing about him. The first answer was plausible but it didn't satisfy. The second satisfied but it wasn't plausible. For the old demon had surely acted the omniscient with his keen eyes and sardonic smile, frightening poor Zoya half to death. And yet it was just possible--. D---- the fellow! He couldn't know everything. Rowland was plucking up his spirits admirably. At least he hadn't been arrested yet.

Poor Zoya seemed for the moment bereft of all spirit and initiative and leaned back in the cab, frowning out of the window, her arms folded, a very thunder-cloud of vexation.

"We have lost," she said at last, in despair.

"It seems so," said Rowland with a smile, lighting another cigarette. "And yet there remain several matters which I do not understand."

"That man! There will be much more that you do not understand if you have to deal with him. He is uncanny--in league with the devil himself."

"Perhaps. I can well believe it."

As the thought came to him, Rowland glanced suddenly over his shoulder out of the rear window.

"Ah, I thought so. It's not von Stromberg, Zoya. It's Hochwald! We are being followed. Two men on bicycles."

She was too well trained to look around but seemed no happier because of the discovery.

"There's no use losing one's nerve," said Rowland cheerfully. "In fact, I'm growing happier every minute."

Madame Rochal's amazement was painted in her face.

He shrugged. "Because if General von Stromberg had succeeded in getting the money, he would have arrested us both in the Haupt Bahnhof."

"You mean that----"

"That someone else has taken it. Precisely."

"Hochwald?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. But, as we say in my country, 'I'm from Missouri, you've got to show me.' And if Herr Senf is the man I think he is, I'm going to proceed on that theory."

The workings of Philip Rowland's brain, it seemed, had been a mystery to her from the first, when she had thought him such easy fish for her net and she looked at him now with a new interest as though some more brilliant facet of his personality had suddenly been revealed to her. She threw her hands impulsively over his own and drew closer to him.

"You, at least, _mon brave_--are a man!" she said.

"Listen, Zoya," he put in quickly. "This is no time for fooling. It's going to be a squad and a stone wall for me, if things don't break right. You've got to do what I tell you. I've got a lot to do between now and night and I can work better alone. I'm going to give those blighters back there the slip. You're to go on to the Russischer Hof, take the yellow bag, and wait. Understand?"

She nodded, pressed his hand, sighed and sank back in her seat.

He leaned forward, gave some orders to the driver and then as they turned a corner where the traffic was thick, he opened the door quickly, jumped out and lost himself in the throng upon the sidewalk. As the cab went up the street he had the satisfaction of seeing the men upon bicycles pass him by in their vain quest and with a smile turned the nearby corner and hurried in the direction of the house of Georg Senf, which was upon the other side of the river.

"D---- the woman!" Rowland was muttering. "I've got other business."

What mattered the millions of Nemi if he couldn't find Tanya? He shut his lips and increased his stride, tortured by the maddening uncertainty as to her whereabouts. A serious matter, Hochwald had called it. It would prove a serious matter for him, if they ever met on anything like equal terms. And yet if it was von Stromberg who was opposed to him, what was the chance of his finding Tanya in this city of more than half a million people? But if Nemi meant anything, there was a power here that might be more than a match for this subtle Prussian General. What was he here for unless to seize the millions of Nemi? But he hadn't seized them yet. Rowland's immunity from arrest was the pledge of it. Then who had them--who had taken the black bag? Was Hochwald playing some deep game of his own in defiance of the dangerous Prussian? And if he had taken the black bag why had he ordered these men to follow his cab instead of arresting him at once? Rowland had now reached the point of believing that Hochwald didn't know where the black bag was. This new hope was based on other premises than his inherent optimism. There were several missing links in the stories of Drelich and Herr Berghof. Each by itself was clear, but taken together, there was food for thought. He hadn't liked Herr Berghof. The fellow had a shifting eye. He had come to testify because not to do so would have made him an object of suspicion. Rowland had watched him closely and had noted the growing hesitancy in his manner as the American had probed deeper into the problem. Why had he suddenly fled? Did he know that there would be no money in the bag to be redeemed at the Haupt Bahnhof? In this case he was an agent of Gregory Hochwald or Baron von Stromberg. Or had he fled because he thought that there would be no bag to redeem? And why, if an agent of Hochwald, should he show such inquietude? And why, on the other hand, disappear suddenly on the eve of a recovery which would redound much to his credit with a probability of substantial reward? Berghof hadn't rung true somehow.

As he strode rapidly over the bridge, dismissing the elusive bag and thinking of Tanya, he made a resolve to put the authority of Nemi to the test. He had taken this greatness because it had been thrust upon him, in a spirit half of amusement, half of adventure, because Tanya had demanded it of him. But the joke seemed to be on him now. These Bavarians were serious, sober and deeply in earnest and if the _verboten_ signs didn't frighten them before they started something, there was a promise of big doings in Munich before many hours passed. He was It, the grand mogul, and great things were expected of him. He would try not to disappoint them. If he didn't find Tanya and the money it wouldn't be long before the prettiest little revolution this prince-ridden country had ever seen would be brewing right here, where brewing was the leading industry. He would brew them one and if it ever got properly started, it would reach to Potsdam.

At the house of the Socialist leader, Rowland gained a new sense of his power. For during his absence the heads of many of the different labor organizations of Munich had called to offer him their fealty and encouragement. And to focus his attention quite definitely upon the meeting tonight, Senf showed him a message that had been received from Herr Hochwald a moment before his arrival, announcing that gentleman's intention to be present with the Central Committee at which he expected to bring up matters of grave importance.

"They're going to test our strength," said Senf quite calmly, "and we're going to let them. It will be a fight for our existence."

"If they'll only forget the _verboten_ signs," said Rowland absently--for he was thinking of Tanya.

"I beg pardon," asked Senf politely.

"I was thinking of another matter. How shall you succeed against Hochwald while he holds your most important witness? They will believe that Fraeulein Korasov has taken this money unless she is there to accuse her jailer. I must find her, Herr Senf. And you must help me--before tonight."

"Ah," said Senf with a sudden access of interest, and told Rowland of a report that had come to him a short while before. The cabman who had driven the Fraeulein and Herr Hochwald away from the Bayrischer Hof had with some difficulty been found. He had driven them to the garage of the Bureau of State Railroads and the pair had departed in an automobile. The official at the garage, evidently acting under instructions, refused to talk, but Senf's agent had been lucky, for a mechanician in the garage was a political follower of Max Liederman's and a member of the Order of Nemi, and had heard quite accidentally that the automobile had gone to a villa upon the banks of the Lake of Starnberg.

Rowland's eyes kindled. It was high time that fortune aided him. Starnberg he found was less than twenty miles away and could be reached by railroad in three-quarters of an hour. He sent for and questioned the man who had brought the information, but could elicit nothing more, for the mechanician had told all that he knew and there was no way of finding the precise location of the villa without arousing the suspicion of the official and this might be fatal to any plans to effect a search.

When the man had gone, Rowland looked at the clock on the mantel. It was four o'clock.

"Herr Senf," he said with a smile, "you have done wonders. I could not have asked more of you. I must move now in search of the Fraeulein and move quickly. I'm going to Starnberg at once."

"You! But, Herr Rowland--the committee! We meet tonight. I had counted upon you to speak to them----"

"I shall try to come back in time--I shall try," he muttered, with a wave of his hand. "But you see how it is--without her----"

"We must do what we can."

"Are there members of the Order of Nemi at Starnberg?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, a few. Herr Benz----"

"You must send a wire to him at once to expect me. I leave on the first train."

"Three-quarters of an hour. I will do as you say. But you will return?"

"Yes----"

Senf wrote a message and gave it to a man who was waiting outside the door.

"To Herr Weiss--in the code. A handkerchief--a red handkerchief in his left hand--you understand?"

The matter of a disguise was imperative and in a few moments in the blouse and cap of a workman Rowland stood in the door shaking the old man by the hand.

"One thing more, Herr Senf. Herr Berghof must be found at once, and hidden until my return."

"Herr Berghof! He should come willingly enough."

Rowland smiled.

"I'm afraid not. He has taken fright."

"But why?"

"I don't know. If he is honest you should find him at the Bayrischer Hof. If he is merely frightened the matter may be more difficult. But if he knows more than he has told us he is already on his way to the Swiss border----"

"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."