“I have thought that,” said the doctor. “You also have thought it? This is wonderful! You are beginning to think.”
The change of tone was noticeable enough now. Monty snapped round at the man who had hitherto stood in apparent awe of him and his judgments.
“You can cut that sarcasm right out, Oberzohn,” he said, and, without preamble: “I’m going to marry that girl.”
Oberzohn said nothing to this.
“She’s not engaged; she’s got no love affairs at all. Joan told me, and Joan is a pretty shrewd girl. I don’t know how I’m going to fix it, but I guess the best thing I can do is to pretend that I am a real friend and get her out of your cellar. She’ll be so grateful that maybe she will agree to almost anything. Besides, I think I made an impression the first time I saw her. And I’ve got a position to offer her, Oberzohn: a house in the best part of London—”
“My house,” interrupted Oberzohn’s metallic voice.
“Your house? Well, our house, let us say. We’re not going to quarrel about terms.”
“I also have a position to offer her, and I do not offer her any other man’s.”
Oberzohn was looking at him wide-eyed, a comical figure; his elongated face seemed to stand out in the gloom like a pantomime mask.
“You?” Monty could hardly believe his ears.
“I, Baron Eruc Oberzohn.”
“A baron, are you?” The room shook with Monty’s laughter. “Why, you damned old fool, you don’t imagine she’d marry you, do you?”
Oberzohn nodded.
“She would do anythings what I tell her.” In his agitation his English was getting a little ragged. “A girl may not like a mans, but she might hate somethings worse—you understand? A woman says death is not’ing, but a woman is afeard of death, isn’t it?”
“You’re crazy,” said Monty scornfully.
“I am crazy, am I? And a damned old fool also—yes? Yet I shall marry her.”
There was a dead silence, and then Oberzohn continued the conversation, but on a much calmer note.
“Perhaps I am what you call me, but it is not a thing worthy for two friends to quarrel. Tomorrow you shall come here, and we will discuss this matter like a business proposition, hein?”
Monty examined him as though he were a strange insect that had wandered into his ken.
“You’re not a Swede, you’re German,” he said. “That baron stuff gave you away.”
“I am from the Baltic, but I have lived many years in Sweden,” said Oberzohn shortly. “I am not German: I do not like them.”
More than this he would not say. Possibly he shared Gurther’s repugnance towards his sometime neighbours.
“We shall not quarrel, anyway,” he continued. “I am a fool, you are a fool, we are all fools. You wish to see your woman?”
“I wish to see Joan,” said Monty gruffly. “I don’t like that ‘your woman’ line of yours.”
“I will go get her. You wait.”
Again the long boots came from under the table, were dragged on to the doctor’s awkward feet, and Monty watched him from the window as he crossed to the factory and disappeared.
He was gone five minutes before he came out again, alone. Monty frowned. What was the reason for this?
“My friend,” panted Oberzohn, to whom these exertions were becoming more and more irksome, “it is not wise.”
“I want to see her—” began Monty.
“Gently, gently; you shall see her. But on the canal bank Gurther has also seen a stranger, who has been walking up and down, pretending to fish. Who can fish in a canal, I ask you?”
“What is he to do with it?”
“Would it be wise to bring her in daylight, I ask you again? Do not the men think that your—that this girl is in Brussels?”
This had not occurred to Monty.
“I have an idea for you. It is a good idea. The brain of old fool Oberzohn sometimes works remarkably. This morning a friend sent to me a ticket for a theatre. Now you shall take her tonight. There is always a little fog when the sun is setting and you can leave the house in a car. Presently I will send a man to attract this watcher’s attention, and then I will bring her to the house and you can call for her.”
“I will wait for her.” Monty was dogged on this point.
And wait he did, until an hour later a half-crazy girl came flying into the room and into his arms.
Dr. Oberzohn witnessed the reunion unmoved.
“That is a pretty scene for me,” he said, “for one to be so soon married,” and he left them alone.
“Monty, I can’t possibly go back to that beastly place tonight. She’ll have to stay by herself. And she’s not a bad kid, Monty, but she doesn’t know she’s worth a lot of money.”
“Have you been talking to her?” he asked angrily. “I told you—”
“No, I’ve only just asked her a few questions. You can’t be in a poky hole like that, thrown together day and night, without talking, can you? Monty, you’re absolutely sure nothing can happen to her?”
Monty cleared his throat.
“The worst thing that can happen to her,” he said, “is to get married.”
She opened her eyes at this.
“Does somebody want to marry her?”
“Oberzohn,” he said.
“That old thing!” she scoffed.
Again he found a difficulty in speaking.
“I have been thinking it over, honey,” he said. “Marriage doesn’t mean a whole lot to anybody.”
“It’ll mean a lot to me,” she said quietly.
“Suppose I married her?” he blurted.
“You!” She stepped back from him in horror.
“Only just a … well, this is the truth, Joan. It may be the only way to get her money. Now you’re in on this graft, and you know what you are to me. A marriage—a formal marriage—for a year or two, and then a divorce, and we could go away together, man and wife.”
“Is that what he meant?” She jerked her head to the door. “About ‘married
