somehow or other. It’s not as if he would leave her without a penny.”
“If I understood your sister rightly on the telephone yesterday,” said Pagel cautiously, “she seems to have the intention of purchasing a business.”
“A business! Why, does Eva want to be a shopgirl?”
“I don’t know. But at all events she seems to want to have a small capital to begin with. Of course, it’s clear to me that what I am doing now for Frau von Prackwitz is legally not permissible, but it’s her firm determination not to return to Neulohe. She’s, so to speak, foregoing her share of the inheritance, and for that reason I thought one could answer for this irregularity.”
“You mean,” burst out the younger Herr von Teschow, “she will renounce Neulohe?”
“I think so. After her recent experiences …”
“I understand. Very sad indeed. Any news of my niece Violet?”
“No.”
“Yes, yes,” said the other lost in thought. “Yes, yes.” He stood up. “Well, once again I beg your pardon. A false alarm—someone whispered something in my ear. Between us, I think as you do; see if you can’t still squeeze out a tidy sum of money for my sister. It won’t make any difference now; my father’ll be in a rage in any case, whether the threshing machine’s there or not. Eight hundred
With almost unconcealed disgust Pagel looked into the other’s eyes. He thought he had never heard anything so hateful as the question: “Any news of my niece Violet?”—young Herr von Tesechow having understood how much there might be to inherit now. But this disgust was unnoticed. The younger von Teschow was much too busy to worry about Pagel. “So see then that you squeeze something more out,” he said absently. “I think my father won’t come for three or four days.”
“Good.”
“Well, I don’t know whether it will be exactly good for you. But, anyway, you are covered against the worst. You don’t know my father when he’s really upset.”
“Well, I shall get to know him then,” said Pagel, smiling. “I will await him in calm.”
But he was wrong there. He had already gone when the Geheimrat came.
“Hopped it, the cunning rogue!” laughed the people.
VI
It began with the telephone ringing in the office.
At that moment Wolfgang Pagel was filling out a telegraphic money order to Frau Eva, and upstairs Amanda Backs was wrapping herself up to cycle through winter winds and autumn rains to the local town. For the money order had to be given in at the post office there, and the pair knew no one else to whom they cared to entrust a good two thousand
The telephone rings variously, sometimes loud, sometimes low, now indifferent, then peremptory.… And accordingly we have our presentiments what kind of conversation will follow.
That’s something, thought Pagel, lifting the receiver.
A rather rough voice demanded to speak to Frau von Prackwitz.
“That is not possible. Frau von Prackwitz is away.”
“Oh.” The rough voice seemed somewhat disappointed. “She would be away now, of course! When is she coming back?”
“I couldn’t say. Not this week. Can I deliver a message for her? This is the bailiff at Neulohe speaking.”
“So you’re still there?”
“I don’t know what you want,” cried Pagel a little annoyed. “Who are you?”
“Then stay on there!” said the rough voice.
“Wait!” yelled Pagel. “I want to know who you are.”
But the other had rung off.
“Listen, Amanda.” And Pagel related what had just happened.
“That’s someone who may have wanted to play a joke on you.”
“No, no,” he said in an absent-minded way. “I think …”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think it might be in connection with Fraulein Violet.”
“But how? Why should anyone behave so stupidly on the telephone about her? Well, give me the two thousand marks; you’ve finished the money order, I suppose? I must be off. I don’t want to have to pedal back in complete darkness in this weather.”
“I’ll be finished in a moment.”
The telephone rang. It rang loud and long, monotonously.
“A dealer,” said Pagel.
But it was from Berlin …
“Frau Eva,” he whispered to Amanda.
It was a dealer, however, a great businessman. “Are you there, young man?” asked the familiar screech.
“Oh yes, Herr Geheimrat,” said Pagel, grinning and throwing Amanda an amused glance. “My name’s Pagel, by the way.”
“Oh, that’s all right then.… You see, I’ve quite forgotten it again. Impolite, but what can we do? Now give me your full attention, young man.…”
“Pagel’s my name.”
“Of course, I know that by now!” The Geheimrat was a little irritated. “There’s no need for me to learn it by heart on the telephone! Don’t forget that this talk’s costing one mark twenty. And my money, unfortunately. So give me your full attention.…”
“I’m giving it, Herr Geheimrat.”
“I shall come by the ten o’clock train this evening. Send Hartig to the station with the two old bays.…”
Pagel wanted to say: “But they’re sold.”
Better not; he would soon find that out for himself.
“And send covers along, horse-covers—so that they are properly covered at the station. Hartig’s only a fool —he’s doubtless divided up all his brains among the numerous children.” Pagel burst into a laugh. “There, you see, now you’re laughing,” said the Geheimrat, pleased. “Let’s hope you’ll laugh tomorrow, too, when I’m there. I’m bringing an auditor along. It’s not a vote of censure on you, but since my good son-in-law’s cleared off on the quiet, we’ve got to make some kind of stock-taking and transfer of funds and books. You understand that, don’t you, young man?”
“I understand completely, Herr Geheimrat. My name is Pagel.”
“Is everything in order, man?” asked the Geheimrat, suddenly anxious.
“Everything in order,” said Pagel, grinning. “You will see for yourself, Herr Geheimrat.”
“There you are! Yes, miss, I’ve had good news, I’ll go on another three minutes. Well, and now look sharp, young man. Have two rooms heated, my bedroom and the little guest room. My wife will be staying here for the moment. She wants to know first whether the coast is clear again with you people in Neulohe.” His voice was anxious again: “There’s nothing more happened to you?”
“Oh, yes, all sorts of things, Herr Geheimrat.”
“Well, don’t tell me about them on the telephone, man; I shall hear soon enough tomorrow. Amanda, the fat girl with the rosy cheeks, y’know.… She can turn into a general servant for once. Yes, and let her heat my study. But not the dining room. We’ve got to economize; there’s less and less money. Tell me, Herr Pagel, have you a little money or so in the cashbox?”
“Very little, Herr Geheimrat. To speak more exactly—nothing!”
“But what are you all thinking of, then? I suppose you’ve raked together a little rent? You can’t just simply … Oh, well, we’ll talk that over seriously tomorrow. Hey, and something else, Herr Pagel! The forester, old Kniebusch, is he still shamming sick in bed?”
“No, Herr Geheimrat. I thought that your daughter had written to you about that. The forester is dead, the
