Half an hour later the Lieutenant, somewhat restored, was sitting in the corner of a deep sofa in Räder’s furnished room. He had had a coffee with a good deal of cognac, and the servant at the moment was preparing him a second.
Thoughtfully he watched the strange fellow’s unruffled activity. “Listen a moment, Herr Räder,” he said finally.
“A moment please, Herr Lieutenant. You must pardon me, it takes time here. Everything is very primitive here.” And he surveyed the room with a contemptuous glance.
“Why have you really come to Ostade? Surely not because you wanted to meet me?” And the Lieutenant laughed, so unlikely did this suspicion seem.
“Oh, yes, sir,” the servant replied earnestly. “I hoped to find you. Ostade is not a big place.” He set the coffee before the Lieutenant, without paying any attention to the effect of his words. Then he pushed forward the bottle of cognac so that it was near at hand. “I would advise a little less cognac now, sir. You are quite fresh again. And you doubtless desire to keep a clear head, sir, I think?”
Under that fishlike, expressionless eye the young man gave a slight shudder. If the fellow isn’t a fool, he thought, then he’s an abysmal scoundrel. “And why did you want to find me?” he asked. “Don’t tell me again that it was to assist me, though.”
“Because I thought it would interest the Lieutenant to know how the dump was betrayed.”
“And how was it betrayed?”
“Because you stopped coming to the young lady, sir, and didn’t take the letters out of the hollow tree, the young lady wrote to Herr Meier about the dump, because the young lady knew that Herr Meier had such a hatred for you, sir.”
“That’s a lie.”
“If you think so, sir.” The reply seemed unperturbed. “How much cognac do you wish, sir? The coffee is exactly hot enough.”
“Pour out, then. You can fill the cup safely; that won’t lay me out.” The Lieutenant looked keenly into the somber gray face. “Even if it were true, the Fräulein wouldn’t have told you.”
“Not when I had to ascertain Herr Meier’s address for the young lady?”
The Lieutenant took a slow gulp. Then he lit a cigarette. “And so you come here just to tell me that? What do you gain by it?”
The cold, lifeless eye again rested on him. “Because I am a revengeful person, Herr Lieutenant. It is all easily comprehensible, as I mentioned.”
“Because she wanted the Rittmeister to turn you out?”
“As well. And also because of something else, because of matters to some extent delicate, sir.”
“Listen, my friend,” exploded the Lieutenant. “Don’t play the gentleman with me. Cough up what you know, or else you’ll see something! I’ve got the feeling that you’re a very cunning dog.” He was astonished to see the gray face redden a little. An unpleasantly simpering, flattered expression appeared there.
“I try to educate myself,” said the man. “I read books. No, not novels; scientific works, often several hundred pages in length.…”
If the fellow’s no idiot he’s an abysmal scoundrel, thought the Lieutenant again. But of course he’s an idiot. “Well, relate your delicate concealments. Don’t be afraid, I shan’t blush.”
“It’s because the young lady didn’t treat me like a human being,” said the servant, once more lifeless. “She would dress and undress in my presence as if I was a lump of wood. And when the master and mistress were away, the parents I mean, then the young lady always used to order me into the bathroom, to dry her.”
“And you were naturally in love with her?”
“Yes, Herr Lieutenant. I am still in love with the young lady.”
“And she knew that? Just wanted to torment you?”
“Yes, Herr Lieutenant. That was the intention.”
The Lieutenant looked sideways at the servant. A thing like that, he thought, a fool and idiot, also has feelings. Suffers and is tormented just like a real human being … “Why don’t you take vengeance yourself?”
“I am more or less of a peaceable temperament, Herr Lieutenant. Violence is not in my nature.”
“So you are cowardly?”
“Yes, Herr Lieutenant. I am quiet-minded.”
The Lieutenant considered. Then he spoke vigorously. “Listen, Herr Räder. Go to The Golden Hat. There you will see a fat gentleman—you’ll recognize him—a detective in a bowler hat. If you tell him about Violet’s letter to Meier, then the young lady won’t enjoy many more happy hours in life.”
“Excuse me, Herr Lieutenant. I’m not for the police. I’m for you, sir.”
It was quiet in the room. Thoughtfully the Lieutenant stirred his cup while the servant stood in a watchful, yet indifferent, posture. The Lieutenant reached across to the bottle of cognac, filled the cup and took a gulp. Then he said softly: “I shall perhaps settle this business not quite as you think, Räder.”
“That will be all right, Herr Lieutenant.”
“If you think I am going to use violence on the girl …”
“The gentleman will have considered what is most efficacious.”
“Most efficacious, yes …”
There was a long silence. The Lieutenant sipped his cognac, the servant stood in the doorway.
“Räder!”
“Yes, Herr Lieutenant.”
“When does it become dark now?”
Räder went to the window and peered out into the gloomy evening drizzle. “With a cloudy sky like this—soon after six.”
“Well, you must get me a taxi for a quarter-past six, here. I must be driven to the border of Neulohe Forest. Agree on the charge beforehand.”
“Certainly, Herr Lieutenant.”
“When you leave the house and also in the streets have a look if that fat detective is spying around anywhere, the one I told you about. A plump, beardless man, pale bloated face, a peculiar glance like ice. Black overcoat with velvet collar, bowler hat … You’ll recognize him, man,” he ended impatiently.
“Certainly, Herr Lieutenant; should I see him I shall recognize him. May I go now?”
“Yes,” replied the Lieutenant, brooding. Then he spoke briskly, yet with embarrassment: “Listen, Räder, there is something else for you …”
“Yes, sir?”
“I require”—he hesitated—“I require a weapon. I have lost mine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you manage that?”
“Certainly, Herr Lieutenant.”
“But it won’t be so easy to get hold of a pistol here today. And some ammunition, of course, Räder!”
“Of course, sir.”
“You are sure?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
“About the money …”
“I shall be glad to assist the Lieutenant.”
“I have a little. But whether it will be enough for the taxi and the pistol …”
“I will settle that, sir—I’ll be back in an hour’s time then, sir.” Hubert Räder had gone without a sound.
The Lieutenant was alone. On the wall a little Black Forest clock was ticking. In the kitchen the landlady from time to time clattered about. He lay on the sofa in his underwear; his clothes were still drying in front of the stove.
He looked at the table where the empty cup stood next to the cognac bottle, three-quarters full yet. Slowly his hand groped over the table, and was withdrawn. “Herr Lieutenant requires a clear head.” He could hear Räder’s insufferable voice, always somewhat didactic.
Why should I want a clear head for that? he thought. Tell me why, you fool!
All the same, he didn’t pour himself out any more. Drunkenness was rising like a wave in him, to fall again and rise once more, higher. He looked at the clock. Twenty-five past five. He still had a good three-quarters of an hour alone to himself, continuing to live to some extent—then he would be hastening faster and faster to his end. He fixed his eyes on the minute hand. It moved infinitely slowly; no, it was not moving at all. The decrease in the little space between the minute and the hour hands was not perceptible. Yet all too suddenly it would be a quarter past six, and the last independent moments of his life would have expired. To rekindle his wrath he tried to think about Violet von Prackwitz, but Räder’s fishlike leathery face and dead gray eyes swung upwards on a new wave of drunkenness. The fellow never opened his mouth in talking, he thought in sudden disgust; I have never even seen his teeth. It’s certain he has nothing but rotten black stumps in his jaws. That’s why he doesn’t open his mouth to talk. It’s all moldy and putrid.