Wolf Among Wolves

“No, Papa, that won’t do. Herr von Studmann is bringing the money back this afternoon. We can’t risk any devaluation.”

“I’ll be damned!” cried the old gentleman, looking at his daughter nonplussed. “I didn’t think for a moment that you’d have the money by tomorrow. What am I to do now?”

“Tell me whom we shall pay it to, Papa. I shan’t let the money wait beyond October the first.”

“And tomorrow there’s the Putsch. Tomorrow the mark may fall and fall. I tell you what, Evchen, pay for the car with the money.”

“Will you take it instead of the rent, then, Papa? You would have to give me that in writing.”

“Eh? What will the car look like tomorrow, perhaps? There’s no family feeling in money matters. I tell you what, I’ll go to some expense about it. Send your young man—Pagel, isn’t it?—send him to me in the Kaiserhof. I’ll pay the fare, third class, of course, and a little for expenses.”

“That won’t do either, Papa. For particular reasons I want Achim to give you the money himself.”

“Damnation!” cried the old gentleman in a rage. “I wish I had gone away without talking to you. Then you could all of you see for yourselves how to get rid of your money. Achim will have to follow me, that’s all.”

“Achim won’t do that, Papa. You know what he has on hand tomorrow.”

“He will have to. Debts come first.”

“That’s what we think, too. But here!”

“Oh, so you’d like me to stay here? No, my child, your father is not such a fool. Elias, come here. Now, Elias, you’ll get from my son-in-law either this evening or tomorrow morning a mass of paper, what they call money nowadays. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Herr Geheimrat.”

“Put it in my old brown leather money bag, go at once to the station and take the next train to me in the Hotel Kaiserhof. Do you know it, Elias?”

“In the Wilhelmplatz, Herr Geheimrat.”

“Correct, Elias. Don’t say a word to anyone. Take a taxi at Friedrichstrasse Station. But don’t let go of the bag for a moment.”

“That I would never do, Herr Geheimrat.”

“Elias, plenty can cut away the bag in a crowd and then you turn up at the Kaiserhof with the handle.…”

“I shall come with the bag.”

“Well, all right, Elias. Listen, put a stone in at the bottom so you can tell by the weight.…”

“Certainly, Herr Geheimrat.”

“Good. Everything in order now, Evchen?”

“Only the receipt for the rent, Papa.”

“This is the limit. Here’s a trusting daughter for you. I can’t give the receipt till I’ve counted if the money is correct.”

“And we can’t give Elias the money without a receipt.”

“You hear, Elias, she doesn’t trust you. How often have you put a pacifier in her mouth, when she was crying in her pram—and now she doesn’t trust you! Very well, Elias, I’ll scribble a receipt for you now. And you must write in the exact sum you get, milliards and millions, exactly, Elias!”

“For certain, Herr Geheimrat.”

“And then the time, to the minute. Notice, for example, if it’s round about twelve, when the dollar changes. Wait a moment. Does your old watch go properly?”

With exactitude the watches were compared, and Elias was given the receipt. From the landau Frau von Teschow had been crying for the last five minutes: “We shan’t get the train, Horst-Heinz! Eva, how can you delay your father like that?”

The Geheimrat shook his daughter’s hand, hesitated a second, then kissed her on the cheek.

Frau von Prackwitz walked back to the farm, to the Villa.… Everyone was fleeing from Neulohe as though it were accursed.

IV

Rittmeister von Prackwitz had that sense of gain which suddenly emerges in those who know nothing of business. When his brother-in-law in Birnbaum admired greatly the Horch car, although thinking it very expensive, it had occurred to him that he might achieve in fact what he had falsely boasted of to his wife. That is, have the car paid for by the rebel gentlemen at Ostade. With a superior air he had assured his brother-in-law that, in the case of those who really knew their way about, cars didn’t cost as much as was supposed. Indeed, almost nothing—in fact, absolutely nothing. And by hints, winks and confidential disclosures he ended by creating in his brother-in-law’s mind a connection between the new car and the coming Putsch. Egon had naturally already heard of that. Everyone seemed to have known about it for a long time; the Rittmeister, if anything, last of all. Even though his brother-in-law did not appear to think the Putsch very hopeful, as a true son of his father young Teschow considered that no undertaking could be totally bad which had brought to light such a motor car.

Driving home in high spirits, with Vi no less cheerful beside him, the Rittmeister was already firmly convinced that the Reichswehr was under an obligation to pay for his car. What did that little Major mean by ordering him to appear with one? His life was at the service of his country day and night, but with his fortune he had to be more prudent. The croakings of disaster coming from Eva and his brother-in-law had not been altogether in vain; the Rittmeister resolved to drive to Ostade tomorrow, before the Putsch, and sound the comrades in the Reichswehr about squeezing a small installment out of them. Punctually on October the second the first payment for the car would be demanded, and he hadn’t the slightest notion where he was to get the money. But it was superfluous to worry about that. He would see to it in Ostade tomorrow.

He turned and inquired of his daughter, humming happily to herself, what she thought of making a trip there. Violet, naturally, was enthusiastic, embracing and kissing him with such warmth that the Rittmeister almost became suspicious. But it was the alcohol, of course, the delightful drive and the long monotonous weeks, now at an end, when she had been confined to her room. Nevertheless he had, for one moment, got on to the right scent. It was not the father but the sweetheart who was kissed. What did she care for the car or the trip? Ostade meant the Lieutenant. It was impossible to motor to Ostade and not see him. But the thought of her mother gave her some anxiety and she asked cautiously: “And Mamma?”

Her father was suitably annoyed. “Military enterprises are not for your Mamma. It would be as well not to trouble her with them. The best thing would be to do our job properly and surprise her later with its success.”

“But perhaps Mamma would like to go as well.” Violet was very anxious. She certainly didn’t want her mother present at her reunion with the Lieutenant. “Perhaps otherwise she won’t allow me to go.”

“If I allow you, yes, Violet!” It sounded very much the master of the house. In his heart, however, the Rittmeister was not quite so certain of his right to decide about his daughter. He didn’t understand much about young girls; the way in which Violet had just kissed him was really alarming. But Eva, no doubt, understood little more. That confinement to her room about absolutely nothing at all had been a ridiculous blunder, though fortunately Violet did not bear grudges. All the same—to make amends—Eva might well have been a little nicer to her recently. Yes, Violet had honestly earned this excursion to Ostade.

“I will speak to your mother this evening. But, as I said, it is not possible to take her with us. Be downstairs on time. We’ll have coffee at seven and be off by half-past. And don’t make a noise on the stairs. You know your mother likes to have a good sleep.” Again a gibe, even though it sounded solicitous. Actually, in undermining the mother in her daughter’s eyes, the Rittmeister did not feel altogether comfortable. Unfortunately, Eva did not want it otherwise. If she could treat him like a fool, send him to a sanatorium, exclude him from the management of his estate, then he had the right to show his daughter what sort of a man he was, and that her mother also was not without her little weaknesses. He went about things with the utmost discretion, however!

And then that evening there had been the quarrel, and Frau Eva hadn’t been invited to go with them, or even informed. That was forgotten. But the appointment between father and daughter, and not making a noise—that was remembered. Vi had been up first, and down the stairs like a cat, without a sound.

In the dining room the servant was laying the breakfast. What more natural than for her to call him to account at last? For a long time she had avoided him, he was too creepy; and she was glad when she did not have to speak to him. She never again forgot to lock the door to her room, night and day. Her love affair with the