the door. He said nothing. She had her hand on the latch.… “When will your father come?” he asked.
“I have a letter to him in the car. I will post it today in Frankfurt. I take it my father will come immediately, once he learns that we’ve gone away. That’s to say, in about three or four days.”
“I will stay till then.”
“Thank you. I knew you would.” But she did not go; she waited.
He made it easy for her. He was tired of all beating about the bush. “And then there’s the business of your money,” he said abruptly. “I have about a hundred
“In Berlin.”
“Where?”
“At first in a hotel.”
“Studmann’s hotel. Hotel Regina,” he said. “I will telegraph you the money every day to the hotel.… What was the amount you had in mind?”
“Oh, a few thousand marks—just so that we can make a start.”
He did not wince. “You know, of course, that I mustn’t sell anything of the stock. That’s forbidden. Since it’s not your property I should render myself open to prosecution. You must now, madam, sign a declaration which will cover me as regards your father. You must testify that all illegal sales have arisen through your instigation. You must further testify that you know about the irregular, defective and also often incorrect way in which the books have been kept; in short, that all my proceedings have your full approval.”
“You are very hard on me, Herr Pagel,” she said. “Do you mistrust me so much?”
“It’s possible that your father may say I’ve embezzled money, that I’ve engaged in underhand dealings. My God!” he said impatiently, “why a lot of talk? Yes, I mistrust you! I have lost all trust.”
“Then write out the declaration,” she said.
While he was typing she walked to and fro. Suddenly an idea struck her, she turned briskly to him, about to say something.… But when she saw his gloomy, unfriendly face she sat down at the desk and wrote, too. Her face was smiling. She had thought of something; she was no egoist, there he was wrong—she was thinking of him, doing him a kindness.…
That declaration which a moment ago she had found so shaming she now merely glanced through and carelessly signed. Then she took up her note.… “Here, Herr Pagel, I have something for you. See, I forget nothing. As soon as I can I’ll settle it. Au revoir, Herr Pagel, and once again many thanks.”
She went.
He stood in the middle of the office, staring at the scrawl in his hand. He felt that never in his life had he looked such an ass. He held an acknowledgment in which Frau Eva von Prackwitz, also in the name of her husband, testified to the receipt of a loan of 2,000 gold marks, in full letters, two thousand gold marks, from Wolfgang Pagel. Pagel appeared ludicrous to himself. He screwed up the note furiously. But then he thought again. He smoothed it out carefully and laid it together with the Declaration of Honor in his briefcase. Valuable travel momento! he grinned. Now he was almost pleased.
V
What friendship and respect young Pagel had gained in the four months of his Neulohe labors were utterly lost in the last four days. For a long time afterwards people told one another that little Black Meier had been bad enough, but such an unfeeling hypocrite as Pagel!—no, they certainly wouldn’t see something like that again, for the lad was ashamed of nothing. He stole publicly—in broad daylight!
“I’m not going to lose my temper,” he said to Amanda Backs the second evening, “but I’d like to explode sometimes. That old idiot Kowalewski actually has the cheek to say, when I’m selling the five hogs to the butcher: ‘You oughtn’t to be doing that, Herr Pagel. Supposing the police heard!’ That’s fine, from him!”
“Yes, lose your temper, lose your temper thoroughly,” she said. “Why have you always been so nice and friendly to all of them? That’s your thanks! They asked me in the village today what it’s like sleeping in madam’s bed, and if I won’t soon be wearing her clothes, too.”
“It’s a trusting world!” he complained bitterly. “Everything bad is believed of one on the spot. They think I’m selling the livestock for my own account behind the owner’s back, and that our moving over into the Villa is done on the quiet, an impudence. Doesn’t it occur to any of the blackguards that I may by chance be acting on instructions? I can’t stick my authorization under the nose of every washerwoman, surely?”
“They don’t want to know anything different,” said Amanda triumphantly. “If you’re doing just what madam told you to, then that’s merely a matter of course and boring. But if in broad daylight you’re making away with half the estate, then that’s something grand—something to talk about.”
“Amanda!” said Pagel prophetically, “I’ve a damned rotten feeling. If the old Geheimrat comes and sees what I’ve been doing, and his wife hears what the women are saying, I don’t know whether the scrawl in my pocket will be very effective. I’m afraid I shall leave Neulohe amid thunder and lightning.”
“Just let things take their course, Herr Pagel. Up till now it’s always been you who had the most trouble—and why should it be any different toward the end?”
“You’re right. She rang up twice today from Berlin to ask where the money was—she says she needs a lot more. I think she wants to buy a business, although I find it hard to imagine the business in which Frau von Prackwitz stands behind the counter. I’m very much afraid I shall have to make up my mind to dispose of the threshing machine. And what the old gentleman will say then …”
But someone else said something first. Next day the local gendarme came stumbling into the threshing- machine negotiations. He was so awkwardly polite and so falsely amiable that it was not hard for Pagel to be aware that something was up. And when at last the gendarme came out with it, saying he would be glad to have the address of the owners, Pagel flatly refused it. “Herr and Frau von Prackwitz do not wish to be disturbed. I am their representative; anything you have to tell them you can please tell me.”
Which was what the gendarme did not wish to do. Very annoyed, he retired, and Pagel went back to his negotiations. The dealer from the local town would not offer the tenth part of the threshing machine’s real value, first because money was unbelievably scarce these days, and secondly because word was going round that a crazy rascal was selling Neulohe, lock, stock and barrel, for a song.
“A moment, you!” said a very indignant voice. “You want to sell the threshing mill?”
“Do you want to buy it?” Pagel looked with interest at the newcomer, a gentleman in reed linen and leggings. He could more or less guess who it was. In the distance stood a racing car which had once been much discussed.
“Allow me,” cried the gentleman. “I am the son of Geheimrat von Teschow!”
“Then you must be the brother of Frau von Prackwitz.” Pagel turned again to the dealer. “Well, say a reasonable word, Herr Bertram, or the mill stays here.”
“Indeed it will stay here,” cried the heir angrily.
“If you say a word, Herr Bertram, I’ll never do any more business with you.”
Intimidated, the dealer looked from one to the other. Pagel smiled. And so the confused Herr Bertram murmured the illuminating sentence: “Oh, if it’s like that,” and disappeared.
“Eight hundred
“Like hell she will!” shouted the other. “Eight hundred
“I hope it’s not me you’re shouting at, Herr von Teschow,” said Pagel amiably. “Otherwise I shan’t give you those explanations for which you have undoubtedly come, but will have to turn you off the farm.”
“Turn me off my father’s farm?” There was something in Pagel’s eye which made the other lower his voice, however. “Well then, where can we speak about the mill? But I’m not to be made a fool of by words, Herr …”
Pagel led the way to the office.
“Well, if it’s like that!” said young Herr von Teschow, and examined once more the two documents, authorization and declaration. “Then you are fully covered, and I beg your pardon. But my sister and my brother-in- law must be mad. My father will never forgive them the damage they have done here. Why does she need so much money? A few hundred marks would be enough for the first weeks, and by then she’ll be reconciled to my father
