Chapter XIV

THE BLACK SPOT IS ERASED FROM THE MAP OF THE WORLD AND THERE IS DANCING IN THE SUNLIGHT ON THE ROOF OF BERLIN

~1~

The relative ease with which I had so long passed for the real Karl Armstadt had lulled me into a feeling of security. But now that my disguise had been penetrated, my old fears were renewed. True, the weigher’s records had seemingly cleared me, but I knew that Grauble had seen the weak spot in the German logic of the stupid official, who had so lightly dismissed Katrina’s accusations. Moreover, I fancied that Grauble had guessed the full truth and connected this uncertainty of my identity with the seditious tenor of the suggestions I had made to him. Even though he might be willing to discuss rebellious plans with a German, could I count on him to consider the treasonable urging coming from a man of another and an enemy race?

So fearing either to confess to him my identity or to proceed without confessing, I postponed doing anything. The sailing date of his fifth trip to the Arctic was fast approaching; if I was ever to board a vessel leaving Berlin I would need von Kufner’s permission. Marguerite reported the growing cordiality of the Admiral. Although I realized that his infatuation for her was becoming rather serious, with the confidence of an accepted lover, I never imagined that he could really come between Marguerite and myself.

But one evening when I went to call upon Marguerite she was “not at home.” I repeated the call with the same result. When I called her up by telephone, her secretary bluntly told me that the Princess Marguerite did not care to speak to me. I hastened to write an impassioned note, pleading to see her at once, for the days were passing and there was now but a week before Grauble’s vessel was due to depart.

In desperation I waited two more days, and still no word came. My letters of pleading, like my calls and telephone efforts, were still ignored.

Then a messenger came bearing a note from Admiral von Kufner, asking me to call upon him at once.

“I have been considering,” began von Kufner, when I entered his office, “the request you made of me some time ago to be permitted to go in person to make a survey of the ore deposits. At first I opposed this, as the trip is dangerous, but more recently I have reconsidered the importance of it. As others are now fully able to continue your work here, I can quite conceive that your risking the trip to the mines in person would be a very courageous and noble sacrifice. So I have taken the matter up with His Majesty.”

With mocking politeness von Kufner now handed me a document bearing the imperial seal.

I held it with a trembling hand as I glanced over the fateful words that commissioned me to go at once to the Arctic.

My smouldering jealousy of the oily von Kufner now flamed into expression. “You have done this thing from personal motives,” I cried. “You have revoked your previous decision because you want me out of your way. You know I will be gone for six months at least. You hope in your cowardly heart that I will never come back.”

Von Kufner’s lips curled. “You see fit,” he answered, “to impugn my motives in suggesting that the order be issued, although it is the granting of your own request. But the commission you hold in your hand bears the Imperial signature, and the Emperor of the Germans never revokes his orders.”

“Very well,” I said, controlling my rage, “I will go.”

~2~

Upon leaving the Admiral’s office my first thought was to go at once to Marguerite. Whatever might be the nature of her quarrel with me I was now sure that von Kufner was at the bottom of it, and that it was in some way connected with this sudden determination of his to send me to the Arctic, hoping that I would never return.

But before I had gone far I began to consider other matters. I was commissioned to leave Berlin by submarine and that too by the vessel in command of Captain Grauble, whom I knew to be nursing rebellion and mutiny in his heart. If deliverance from Berlin was ever to come, it had come now. To refuse to embrace it would mean to lose for ever this fortunate chance to escape from this sunless Babylon.

I would therefore go first to Grauble and determine without delay if he could be relied on to make the attempt to reach the outer world. Once I knew that, I could go then to Marguerite with an invitation for her to join me in flight--if such a thing were humanly possible.

But recalling the men who had done so much to fill me with hope and faith in the righteousness of my mission, I again changed my plan and sought out Dr. Zimmern and Col. Hellar and arranged for them to meet me that evening at Grauble’s quarters.

At the hour appointed I, who had first arrived at the apartment, sat waiting for the arrival of Zimmern. When he came, to my surprise and bewildered joy he was not alone, for Marguerite was with him.

She greeted me with distress and penitence in her eyes and I exulted in the belief that whatever her quarrel with me might be it meant no irretrievable loss of her devotion and love.

We sat about the room, a very solemn conclave, for I had already informed Grauble of my commission to go to the Arctic, and he had sensed at once the revolutionary nature of the meeting. I now gave him a brief statement of the faith of the older men, who from the fulness of their lives had reached the belief that the true patriotism for their race was to be expressed in an effort to regain for the Germans the citizenship of the world.

The young Captain gravely nodded. “I have not lived so long,” he said, “but my life has been bitter and full of fear. I am not out of sympathy with your argument, but before we go further,” and he turned to Marguerite, “may I not ask why a Princess of the House of Hohenzollern is included in such a meeting as this?”

I turned expectantly to Zimmern, who now gave Grauble an account of the tragedy and romance of Marguerite’s life.

“Very well,” said Grauble; “she has earned her place with us; now that I understand her part, let us proceed.”

For some hours Hellar and Zimmern explained their reasons for believing the life of the isolated German race was evil and defended their faith in the hope of salvation through an appeal to the mercy and justice of the World State.

“Of all this I am easily convinced,” said Grauble, “for it is but a logically thought-out conclusion of the feeling I have nourished in my blind rebellion. I am ready to go with Herr von Armstadt and surrender my vessel to the enemy; but the practical question is, will our risk avail anything? What hope can we have that we will even be able to deliver the message you wish to send? How are we to know that we will not immediately be killed?”

The hour had come. “I will answer that question,” I said, and there was a tenseness in my tone that caused my hearers to look at me with eager, questioning eyes.

“Barring,” I said, “the possibility of destruction before I can gain opportunity to speak to some one in authority, there is nothing to fear in the way of our ungracious reception in the outer world--” As I paused and looked about me I saw Marguerite’s eyes shining with the same worshipful wonder as when I had visioned for her the sunlight and the storms of the world outside Berlin--”because I am of that world. I speak their language. I know their people. I never saw the inside of Berlin until I was brought here from the potash mines of Stassfurt, wearing the clothes and carrying the identification papers of one Karl Armstadt who was killed by gas bombs which I myself had ordered dropped into those mines.”

At these startling statements the older men could only gasp in incredulous astonishment, but Captain Grauble nodded wisely--”I half expected as much,” he said.

I turned to Marguerite. Her eyes were swimming in a mist of tears.

“Then your visions were real memories,” she cried, --”and not miracles. I knew you had seen other worlds, but I thought it was in some spirit life.” She reached out a trembling hand toward me and then shrinkingly drew it back. “But you are not Karl Armstadt,” she stammered, as she realized that I was a nameless stranger.

“No,” I said, going to her and placing a reassuring arm about her shoulder, “I am not Karl Armstadt. My name is Lyman de Forrest. I am an American, a chemical engineer from the city of Chicago, and if Captain Grauble does not alter his purpose, I am going back there and will take you with me.”

Zimmern and Hellar were listening in consternation. “How is it,” asked Hellar, “that you speak German?”

By way of answer I addressed him in English and in French, while he and Zimmern glanced at each other as do men who see a miracle and strive to hold their reason while their senses contradict their logic.

I now sketched the story of my life and adventures with a fulness of convincing detail. One incident only I omitted and that was of the near discovery of my identity by Armstadt’s former mistress. Of that I did not speak for I felt that Marguerite, at least in the presence of the others, would not relish that part of the story. Nor did I wish to worry them with the fear that was still upon me that I had not seen the last of that affair.

After answering many questions and satisfying all doubts as to the truth of my story, I again turned the conversation to the practical problem of the escape from Berlin. “You can now see,” I declared, “that I deserve no credit for genius or courage. I am merely a prisoner in an enemy city where my life is in constant danger. If any one of you should speak the word, I would be promptly disposed of as a spy. But if you are sincere in your desire to send a message to my Government, I am here to take that message.”

“It almost makes one believe that there is a God,” cried Hellar, “and that he has sent us a deliverer.”

“As for me,” spoke up Captain Grauble, “I shall deliver your messenger into the hands of his friends, and trust that he can persuade them to deal graciously with me and my men. I should have made this break for liberty before had I not believed it would be fleeing from one death to another.”

“Then you will surely leave us,” said Zimmern. “It is more than we have wished and prayed for, but,” he added, turning a compassionate glance toward Marguerite, “it will be hard for her.”

“But she is going with us,” I affirmed. “I will not leave her behind. As for you and Col Hellar, I shall see you again when Berlin is free. But the risks are great and the time may be long, and if Marguerite will go I will take her with me as a pledge that I shall not prove false in my mission for you, her people.”

I read Marguerite’s answer in the joy of her eyes, as I heard Col. Hellar say: “That would be fine, if it were possible.”

But Zimmern shook his head. “No,” he said, as if commanding. “Marguerite must not go now even if it were possible. You may come back for her if you succeed in your mission, but we cannot lose her now; she must not go now, --” and his voice trembled with deep emotion. At his words of authority concerning the girl I loved I felt a resurge of the old suspicion and jealousy.

“I am sorry,” spoke up Captain Grauble, “but your desire to take the Princess Marguerite with you is one that I fear cannot be realized. I would be perfectly willing for her to go if we could once get her aboard, but the approach of the submarine docks are very elaborately guarded. To smuggle a man aboard without a proper permit would be exceedingly difficult, but to get a woman to the vessel is quite impossible.”

“I suppose that it cannot be,” I said, for I saw the futility of arguing the matter further at the time, especially as Zimmern was opposed to it.

The night was now far spent and but four days remained in which to complete my preparations for departure. In this labour Zimmern and Hellar could be of no service and I therefore took my leave of them, lest I should not see them again. “Within a year at most,” I said, “we may meet again, for Berlin will be open to the world. Once the passage is revealed and the protium traffic stopped, the food stores cannot last longer. When these facts are realized by His Majesty and the Advisory Council, let us hope they will see the futility of resisting. The knowledge that Germany possesses will increase the world’s food supply far more than her population will add to the consumptive demands, hence if reason and sanity prevail on both sides there will be no excuse for war and suffering.”

~3~

And so I took my leave of the two men from whose noble souls I had achieved my aspirations to bring the century-old siege of Berlin to a sane and peaceful end without the needless waste of life that all the world outside had always believed would be an inevitable part of the capitulation of the armoured city.

I now walked with Marguerite through the deserted tree-lined avenues of the Royal Level.

“And why, dear,” I asked, “have you refused to see me these five days past?”

“Oh, Karl,” she cried, “you must forgive me, for nothing matters now--I have been crazed with jealousy. I was so hurt that I could see no one, for I could only fight it out alone.”

“And what do you mean?” I questioned. “Jealous? And of whom could you be jealous, since there is no other woman in this unhappy city for whom I have ever cared?”

“Yes, I believe that. I haven’t doubted that you loved me with a nobler love than the others, but you told me there were no others, and I believed you. So it was hard, so very hard. The Doctor--I saw Dr. Zimmern this morning and poured out my heart to him--insisted that I should accept the fact that until marriage all men were like that, and it could not be helped. But I never asked you, Karl, about other women; you yourself volunteered to tell me there were no others, and what you told me was not true. I must forgive you, for now I may lose you, but why does a man ever need to lie to a woman? I somehow feel that love means truth--”

“But,” I insisted, “it was the truth. I bear no personal relation to any other woman.”

She drew back from me, breathing quickly, faith and doubt fighting a battle royal in her eyes. “But the checks, Karl?” she stammered; “those checks the girl on the Free Level cashes each month, and worse than that the check at the Jeweller’s where you bought a necklace for twenty thousand marks?”

“Quite right, there are such checks, and I shall explain them. But before I begin, may I ask just how you came to know about those checks? Not that I care; I am glad you do know; but the fact of your knowledge puzzles me, for I thought the privacy of a man’s checking account was one of the unfair privileges that man has usurped for himself and not granted to women.”

“But I did not pry into the matter. I would never have thought of such a thing until he forced the facts upon me.”

“He? You mean von Kufner?”

“Yes, it was five days ago. I was out walking with him and he insisted on my going into a jewellery store we were passing. I at first refused to go as I thought he wished to buy me something. But he insisted that he merely wanted me to look at things and I went in. You see, I was trying not to offend him.”

“Of course,” I said, “there was no harm in that. And--”

“The Admiral winked at the Jeweller. I saw him do that; and the jeweller set out a tray of ruby necklaces and began to talk about them, and then von Kufner remarked that since they were so expensive he must not sell many. ‘Oh, yes,’ said the Jeweller, ‘I sell a great number to young men who have just come into money. I sold one the other day to Herr von Armstadt of the Chemical Staff,’ and he reached for his sales book and opened it to the page with a record of the sale. He had the place marked, for I saw him remove a slip as he opened the book.”

“Rather clever of von Kufner,” I commented; “how do you suppose he got trail of it?”

“He admitted his trailing quite frankly,” said Marguerite, “for as soon as we were out of the shop, I accused him of preparing the scene. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘but I had to convince you that your chemist was not so saintly as you thought him. His banker is a friend of mine, and I asked him about von Armstadt’s account. He is keeping a girl on the Free Level and evidently also making love to one of better caste, or he would hardly be buying ruby necklaces.’ I told von Kufner that he was a miserable spy, but he only laughed at me and said that all men were alike and that I ought to find it out while I was young--and then he asked if I would like him to have the young woman’s record sent up from the Free Level for my inspection. I ordered him to leave me at once and I have not seen or heard from him since, until I received a note from him today telling me of the Royal order for you to go to the Arctic.”

I first set Marguerite’s mind at ease about the checks to Bertha by explaining the incident of the geography, and then told the story of Katrina and the meeting in the café, and the later affair of Holknecht and the necklace.

“And you will promise me never to see her again?”

“But you have forgotten,” I said, “that I am leaving Berlin in four days.”

“Oh, Karl,” she cried, “I have forgotten everything--I cannot even remember that new name you gave us--I believe I must be dreaming--or that it is all a wild story you have told us to see how much we in our simplicity and ignorance will believe.”

“No,” I said gently, “it is not a dream, though I could wish that it were, for Grauble says that there is no hope of taking you with me; and yet I must go, for the Emperor has ordered me to the Arctic and von Kufner will see to it that I make no excuses. If I once leave Berlin by submarine with Grauble I do not see how I can refuse to carry out my part of this project to which I am pledged, and make the effort to reach the free world outside.”

Marguerite turned on me with a bitter laugh. “The free world,” she cried, “your world. You are going back to it and leave me here. You are going back to your own people--you will not save Germany at all--you will never come back for me!”

“You are very wrong,” I said gently. “It is because I have known you and known such men as Dr. Zimmern and Col. Hellar that I do want to carry the message that will for ever end this sunless life of your imprisoned race.”

“But,” cried Marguerite, “you do not want to take me; you could find a way if you would--you made the Emperor do your bidding once--you could do it again if you wanted to.”

“I very much want to take you; to go without you would be but a bitter success.”

“But have you no wife, or no girl you love among your own people?”

“No.”

“But if I should go with you, the people of your world would welcome you but they would imprison me or kill me as a spy.”

“No,” and I smiled as I answered, “they do not kill women.”

~4~

During four brief days that remained until Capt. Grauble’s vessel was due to depart my every hour was full of hurried preparations for my survey of the Arctic mines. Clothing for the rigours and rough labour of that fearful region had to be obtained and I had to get together the reports of previous surveys and the instruments for the ore analyses that would be needed. Nor was I altogether faithless in these preparations for at times I felt that my first duty might be thus to aid in the further provisioning of the imprisoned race, for how was I to know that I would be able to end the state of war that had prevailed in spite of the generations of pacifist efforts? At times I even doubted that this break for the outer world would ever be made. I doubted that Capt. Grauble, though he solemnly assured us that he was ready for the venture, was acting in good faith. Could he, I asked, persuade his men to their part of the adventure? Would not our traitorous design be discovered and we both be returned as prisoners to Berlin? Granted even that Grauble could carry out his part and that the submarine proceeded as planned to rise to the surface or attempt to make some port, with the best of intentions of surrendering to the World State authorities, might not we be destroyed before we could make clear our peaceful and friendly intentions? Could I, coming out of Germany with Germans prove my identity? Would my story be believed? Would I have believed such a story before the days of my sojourn among the Germans? Might I not be consigned to languish in prison as a merely clever German spy, or be consigned to an insanity ward?

At times I doubted even my own desire to escape from Berlin if it meant the desertion of Marguerite, for there could be no joy in escape for me without her. Yet I found small relish in looking forward to life as a member of that futile clan of parasitical Royalty. Had Germany been a free society where we might hope to live in peace and freedom perhaps I could have looked forward to a marriage with Marguerite and considered life among the Germans a tolerable thing. But for such a life as we must needs live, albeit the most decent Berlin had to offer, I could find no relish--and the thought of escape and call of duty beyond the bomb proof walls and poisoned soil called more strongly than could any thought of love and domesticity within the accursed circle of fraudulent divinity.

There was also the danger that lurked for me in Holknecht’s knowledge of my identity and the bitterness of his anger born of his insane and stupid jealousy.

Rather than remain longer in Berlin I would take any chance and risk any danger if only Marguerite were not to be left behind. And yet she must be left behind, for such a thing as getting a woman aboard a submarine or even to the submarine docks had never been heard of. I thought of all the usual tricks of disguising her as a man, of smuggling her as a stowaway amidst the cargo, but Grauble’s insistence upon the impossibility of such plans had made it all too clear that any such wild attempt would lead to the undoing of us all.

If escape were possible with Marguerite--! But cold reason said that escape was improbable enough for me alone. For a woman of the House of Hohenzollern the prison of Berlin had walls of granite and locks of steel.

The time of departure drew nearer. I had already been passed down by the stealthy guards and through the numerous locked and barred gates to the subterranean docks where Grauble’s vessel, the Eitel 3, rested on the heavy trucks that would bear her away through the tunnel to the pneumatic lock that would float her into the passage that led to the open sea.