“Just lately,” said the man from Budapest, interrupting him, “we took into custody a similar adventurer, and we did it by curious and not exactly legal methods, but we got no further in any other way. With us in Hungary, as it is with you here, the assistance of hypnotism in the detection of crime is forbidden. We had the man of whom we were almost certain—but, my dear sir, you won’t betray me, I am sure, for the professional interest you feel in putting an end to such aberrations is just as strong in me—well, we were practically certain that he was the leader of a gang which had several murders to their account. He was in prison, as I have told you. He made himself out a deaf mute, and we could glean nothing from his papers. No one knew him, yet we felt almost sure of our man, and that kind of thing is almost unbearable to an expert, isn’t it?—for when he appeared before their worships, there was the risk of his being acquitted for lack of sufficient evidence. That was a most disagreeable idea to me, for I had spent about six months in tracking him down, and if he were discharged the mistake would be due to me. I therefore took a very bold step. A friend of mine had hypnotic powers. He was a barrister, and had often displayed these gifts of his in private. I wanted him to go to the jail with me, but he said, ‘I can operate on him from outside,’ and, indeed, a quarter of an hour later I knew that we had the leader of the gang at last, and various disclosures were made which shortly after sent him to the gallows.”
While the Hungarian was telling this story Wenk experienced an aversion to him. He had a sensation of profound mental resistance to the man, although he could not explain what had caused such a reversal of feeling.
“Are you also interested in persons who possess this gift of suggestion?” asked the police superintendent.
“Uncommonly so!” answered Wenk.
“Perhaps you would like to meet my friend, and see something of his gifts?”
“Is he in Berlin, then? Yes, that I certainly should!”
“Yes, he’s here now. He has given up practising law, and now exercises his gifts openly. He has very quickly become celebrated. You must have heard the name of Weltmann?”
Wenk did not like to say No, so he answered with a subdued “Certainly!”
“Well, he is the celebrated Weltmann. You know he is noticeable on account of his having only one hand. He lost the other in the Carpathians in 1915. Well, we’ll arrange a meeting, then. I will see him in the morning. Are you on the telephone by any chance?”
Wenk mentioned his telephone number. Both the gentlemen then left, to go to a house where ether, cocaine and opium were procurable, and other more obvious vices were pandered to.
On the very next day Wenk was summoned to the telephone. “Police Superintendent Vörös speaking! Things have fallen out most favourably for you, my dear sir! In the home of one of our countrymen, about whom I will tell you a few things in confidence, Weltmann is giving an entertainment this very evening. It is quite enough for you to have expressed the wish; you may consider yourself invited, without any further formality. It is a most hospitable house, and you won’t feel yourself in any way a stranger. There are between sixty and seventy people invited. I’ll undertake all the arrangements, and if it suits you I’ll come in a car for you at nine o’clock. The villa is some distance out behind Nicholas Lake.”
“Thank you very much. Your kindness overwhelms me,” answered Wenk, “and I do not know how to requite it.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” answered the other heartily. “We Hungarians are only too pleased to have such a chance. Then we can regard that as settled?”
“Quite, thank you!”
“How very amiable the Hungarians are,” thought Wenk, as he hung up the receiver. He felt quite ashamed of himself for having had a doubt of the police superintendent’s good faith.
He spent the afternoon among the archives of the Criminal Investigation Department, where he and the colleague with whom he had talked concerning the Mabuse crimes looked through the collection of photographs of criminals. Face after face drew his attention. He would not give up until he had seen them all, and when he came back to his lodgings, tired out with his protracted labours, he had only just time to don his evening clothes in readiness for the function he was to attend.
XX
Police Superintendent Vörös was punctual.
“Now I must tell you something about our host and my fellow-countrymen out there by the Lake,” he said directly the car started. “He was formerly Prince of Komor and Komorek, and he married a Viennese dancer. Of course, his people were furious! They made things so disagreeable for him that one day he said, ‘All right: you’ve gone too far. You’ve done with your Prince. From today I am plain Komorek,’ and then he wandered off. He was very rich, anyhow, and not in any way dependent on his people. The only thing that is still ‘princely’ about him is his mansion out yonder. You will see it for yourself. He’s been living there for ten years now. His wife is very smart and exclusive—more exclusive than a princess. Of course, she is no longer young. Have you had your evening meal?”
“No, I had no time.”
“Well, that does not matter. At Komorek’s house they are always ready for guests. You’ll get something good to eat there.”
Wenk asked himself, “Why is the man so talkative?” and once more his feeling of repulsion for the Hungarian regained its sway. He was inwardly both excited and uneasy, and in spite of the darkness in the car his eyes smarted. There
