The Man Without a Memory Part 17

To my dismay, however, no attempt was made to let us enter the house, although the girl had kept up an incessant knocking. The mob soon tumbled to this and things began to look ugly. The old lady, scared to death and ill, was on the verge of collapse; the daughter, almost equally panicky and alarmed by her mother's condition, stopped hammering at the door and bent over her; the crowd was getting more furious every moment; those at the back began to push those in front forward, the brute I had struck first came on with the rest, and I came in for some pretty hot smacks and kicks.

But the little barrier of the stick kept off the worst, and, as every second was of vital importance, since help might come from a reinforcement of the police, I took the gruelling and just held on.

A couple more invaluable minutes were gained in this way when another of the men, a dirty little red-haired beggar, more wary than the others, tumbled to the weak spot in my defence--my hold on the stick.

He tried his fists on my hands first, and finding that was no good he whipped out a pocket knife and jabbed me with it.

I loosed the right hand and dropped him with a tap on the nose which brought the blood in a stream and gave him something else to think about. But his two companions had seen his little dodge and made ready to flatter it with imitation, so I had to adopt other tactics.

I was pretty reckless by that time, and in no mood to be man-handled by a set of German roughs; so I changed the barrier into a weapon of offence; it made a fine sort of pike with its ironshod end; and I used it without scruple or mercy. I drove it slap into the face of the man who had struck me first, then into the chest of the fellow next him, and lastly downed a third with a crack on the skull.

That accounted for all the men and took off a lot of the edge of the crowd's appet.i.te for more. They fell back a pace or two and I stepped in front of the archway, swung the bludgeon over my head and swore that I'd brain the first person, man or woman, who moved a single foot forward.

n.o.body in the front ranks seemed in any hurry to accept the invitation; but again those at the back, who had no knowledge of the happenings, began to shove forward, and slowly the people in front were pushed forward against their will and despite their efforts to resist the pressure.

The result was plain. I couldn't break every head in sight, of course, and I was at my wit's end what to do, when a really happy thought occurred to me. I had a lot of small money in my pocket, whipped it out, and sent it scattering into the street.

"If it's money you want, there it is," I shouted at the top of my lung power, and sent a second lot after the first.

It was a truly gorgeous scheme. I yelled loud enough for nearly all to hear, and the flash of the coins did the rest; the pressure round the mouth of our shelter was relieved instantly, and both back and front rows joined in a fearsome scramble in the middle of the road, where I had been careful to shy the money. I never saw a finer scrimmage in my life.

"We can go," I called to the couple behind me, seeing that the pavement was clear enough for us to get away. But the elder woman had fallen and was incapable of any effort whatever.

"Have you any small money?" I asked the girl. "My own's all gone."

She felt her own pockets and in the handbag on her mother's arm and gave all she could find.

It was enough to keep the crowd busy for another minute or two, and I stepped out, and just as the people were easing off from the first diversion of the scramble, I yelled out that there was more to come, and flung the whole lot broadcast among the tossing heads, taking care to shy it as far down the street as possible. There was an instant rush for it.

I slipped back into the doorway, picked up the old lady and made a dash for it, telling the girl to bring the stick with her and keep close to the houses, which by that time were all shut and barred.

We managed to get some yards toward the street corner when two of the men who had given us trouble spied us, and, thinking that I was now unarmed, came rus.h.i.+ng in pursuit, calling to a lot of the others to follow.

They soon overtook us, and there was nothing for it but to put up another fight, this time without the friendly help of a doorway. I laid my burden on the pavement, took the stick from the girl, and turned to face the oncomers. The instant they saw I was still armed, they pulled up in surprise and hesitated. I promptly seized the moment of their consternation and went straight at them, clubbed the nearest and was making for the next when I heard a whoop behind me, suggesting an attack from the rear.

I turned to meet it, and to my intense relief saw Hans standing by the two ladies. "Come on, Hans," I called, and he was by my side in a jiffy. We had a rough and tumble for a few seconds in which he joined like a brick, and then relief arrived. We heard the sound of horses, with the jingle of accoutrements, and the next moment a small troop of cavalry turned the corner of the street, and we left the rest of the proceedings to them. They soon scattered the mob, who fled in all directions except ours, and the street was quickly cleared, leaving the car the one conspicuous feature in the foreground.

As the chauffeur was nowhere to be seen and the old lady couldn't walk, I sent Hans back to her and went to see if the car had been much damaged. It had certainly been in the wars; stripped of everything, even to the cus.h.i.+ons, but the engine was all right, so I started it, climbed in, and backed to the spot where the ladies were.

Then it flashed suddenly on me what an a.s.s I was making of myself to let any one see that I knew anything about cars; but it was too late to make a pretence now, and I consoled myself with the reflection that there was no need to let the people know who I was.

But there I reckoned without Hans. The mother had sufficiently recovered to get up, and was speaking to him when I reached them, while Hans and the daughter were casting sheep's eyes at each other in a fas.h.i.+on which told tales. They were evidently old friends, and a little bit more; and I wasn't, therefore, surprised when the mother knew me as La.s.sen, Hans' cousin.

She was awfully sweet and grateful and the tears trembled in her eyes as she thanked me, holding my hand in both of hers, declaring that both she and her daughter owed me their lives, and making so much of the matter, that I had to chip in with a suggestion that she had better get home as soon as possible.

"But how?" she exclaimed hopelessly. "Where's Wilhelm?"

But Wilhelm, evidently the chauffeur, was nowhere to be seen; and there was nothing for it but to volunteer to drive the car myself.

All this time friend Hans had been making the best of his opportunity with the daughter, who also thanked me profusely when I had helped her mother into the car.

"Where am I to drive?" I asked as I took the wheel.

"Hans knows the way," suggested the daughter, with the faintest little flush of confusion as she hazarded the suggestion. He grinned.

"Come along then, Hans," I said; and he nipped in and told me where to go and which way to take.

"Rather a nice little child," I said presently, chipping him; the girl was about sixteen, I guessed, as her hair was still down. But he resented the speech.

"Child! She's only a year younger than I am," he exclaimed quite indignantly.

"So that's how the wind blows, eh?"

"I wish to Heaven I'd come up sooner; but I say, you did make a fight of it, cousin. Nita's been telling me all about it. She says they'd have been torn to pieces if it hadn't been for you. You're a lucky beggar!"

"I don't take too kindly to that sort of luck, Hans, I can tell you."

"I only wish it had been mine," he declared regretfully.

"You did all right as it was when you came; and of course she saw you.

Rather a pretty name--Nita."

He smiled self-consciously and coloured. "But her mother didn't; if she had it might change her opinion and----" He didn't finish the sentence and exclaimed: "But I say, you do know how to handle a car!"

This didn't suit me, however, so I went back to the pretty Nita. "The mother's against it all, eh?"

"Only for the silly reason that we're too young. And I shall be an officer in a month or two; but the Baroness is like Rosa in that, she can't understand when a fellow's grown up."

"It'll come all right when you've been in the army a year or two," I said consolingly.

"A year or two," he exclaimed in some dismay.

"Well, if she won't wait for you as long as that, she isn't worth bothering about, Hans."

But he wasn't in a mood for any philosophic consolation. "But she will; she's said so a hundred times. There's no doubt about her; but there's something else; somebody else, rather."

"And which are you? Number one or number two?"

"Oh, I don't mean with her; but old Gratz has some one else."

"And what's he got to do with it?"

"Johann! Seeing that he's her father, he's got everything to do with it, of course."

This was something like a jar in all truth. He was about the last soul in Berlin who ought to know that I had so far recovered my memory as to be able to handle the car. "Do you mean that this old lady is Baron von Gratzen's wife?"

"Of course she is. I thought you knew it."