The Berlin Stories (9 page)

“I’m afraid that’s an evil omen,” I said jokingly. He seemed quite upset.

“Please don’t say that, William. I don’t like people to say things of that kind, even in jest.”

This was the first time I had ever known Arthur to be superstitious. I was amused and rather impressed. He appeared to have got it badly. Could he really have undergone a sort of religious conversion? It was difficult to believe.

“Have you been a communist long, Arthur?” I asked, in English, as we began to eat.

He cleared his throat slightly, shot an uneasy glance in the direction of the door.

“At heart, William, yes. I think I may say that I have always felt that, in the deepest sense, we are all brothers. Class distinctions have never meant anything to me; and hatred of tyranny is in my blood. Even as a small child, I could never bear injustice of any kind. It offends my sense of the beautiful. It is so stupid and unaesthetic. I remember my feelings when I was first unjustly punished by my nurse. It wasn’t the punishment itself which I resented; it was the clumsiness, the lack of imagination behind it. That, I remember, pained me very deeply.”

“Then why didn’t you join the Party long ago?”

Arthur looked suddenly vague; stroked his temples with his finger-tips: “The time was not ripe. No.”

“And what does Schmidt say to all this?” I asked mischievously.

Arthur gave the door a second hurried glance. As I had suspected, he was in a state of suspense lest his secretary should suddenly walk in upon us.

“I’m afraid Schmidt and I don’t quite see eye to eye on the subject just at present.”

I grinned. “No doubt you’ll convert him in time.”

“Shut up talking English, you two,” cried Otto, giving me a vigorous jog in the ribs. “Anni and I want to hear the joke.”

During supper we drank a good deal of beer. I must have been rather unsteady on my feet, because, when I stood up at the end of the meal, I knocked over my chair. On the underside of the seat was pasted a ticket with the printed number 69.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“Oh, that?” said Arthur hastily; he seemed very much disconcerted. “That’s merely the catalogue number from the sale where I originally bought it. It must have been there all this time… Anni, my love, do you think you and Otto would be so very kind as to carry some of the things into the kitchen and put them in the sink? I don’t like to leave Hermann too much to do in the morning. It makes him cross with me for the rest of the day.”

“What is that ticket for?” I repeated gently, as soon as they were outside. “I want to know.”

Arthur sadly shook his head.

“Ah, my dear William, nothings escapes your eye. Yet another of our domestic secrets is laid bare.”

“I’m afraid I’m very dense. What secret?”

“I rejoice to see that your young life has never been sullied by such sordid experiences. At your age, I regret to say, I had already made the acquaintance of the gentleman whose sign-manual you will find upon every piece of furniture in this room.”

“Good God, do you mean the bailiff?”

“I prefer the word Gerichtsvollzieher. It sounds so much nicer.”

“But, Arthur, when is he coming?”

“He comes, I’m sorry to say, almost every morning. Sometimes in the afternoon as well. He seldom finds me at home, however. I prefer to let Schmidt receive him. From what I have seen of him, he seems a person of little or no culture. I doubt if we should have anything in common.”

“Won’t he soon be taking everything away?”

Arthur seemed to enjoy my dismay. He puffed at his cigarette with exaggerated nonchalance.

“On Monday next, I believe.”

“How frightful! Can’t anything be done about it?”

“Oh, undoubtedly something can be done about it. Something will be done about it. I shall be compelled to pay another visit to my Scotch friend, Mr. Isaacs. Mr. Isaacs assures me that he comes of an old Scotch family, the Inverness Isaacs. The first time I had the pleasure of meeting him, he nearly embraced me: ‘Ah, my dear Mr. Norris,’ he said, ‘you are a countryman of mine.’ “

“But, Arthur, if you go to a moneylender, you’ll only get into worse trouble still. Has this been going on for long? I always imagined that you were quite rich.”

Arthur laughed: “I am rich, I hope, in the things of the Spirit… My dear boy, please don’t alarm yourself on my account. I’ve been living on my wits for nearly thirty years now, and I propose to continue doing so until such time as I am called into the, I’m afraid, not altogether approving company of my fathers.”

Before I could ask any more questions, Anni and Otto returned from the kitchen. Arthur greeted them gaily and soon Anni was sitting on his knee, resisting his advances with slaps and bites, while Otto, having taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, was absorbed in trying to repair the gramophone. There seemed no place for myself in this domestic tableau and I soon said that I must be going.

Otto came downstairs with a key to let me out of the house door. In parting, he gravely raised his clenched fist in salute: “Red Front.”

“Red Front,” I answered.

CHAPTER SIX

One morning, not long after this, Frl. Schroeder came shuffling into my room in great haste, to tell me that Arthur was on the telephone. “It must be something very serious. Herr Norris didn’t even say good morning to me.” She was impressed and rather hurt.

“Hullo, Arthur. What’s the matter?”

“For Heaven’s sake, my dear boy, don’t ask me any questions now.” His tone was nervously irritable and he spoke so rapidly that I could barely understand him. “It’s more than I can bear. All I want to know is, can you come here at once?”

“Well… I’ve got a pupil coming at ten o’clock.”

“Can’t you put him off?”

“Is it as important as all that?”

Arthur uttered a little cry of peevish exasperation: “Is it important? My dear William, do please endeavour to exercise your imagination. Should I be ringing you up at this unearthly hour if it wasn’t important? All I beg of you is a plain answer: Yes or No. If it’s a question of money, I shall be only too glad to pay you your usual fee. How much do you charge?”

“Shut up, Arthur, and don’t be absurd. If it’s urgent, of course I’ll come. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.”

I found all the doors of the flat standing open, and walked in unannounced. Arthur, it appeared, had been rushing wildly from room to room like a flustered hen. At the moment, he was in the sitting-room, dressed ready to go out, and nervously pulling on his gloves. Hermann, on his knees, rummaged sulkily in a cupboard in the hall. Schmidt lounged in the doorway of the study, a cigarette between his lips. He did not make the least effort to help and was evidently enjoying his employer’s distress.

“Ah, here you are, William, at last!” cried Arthur, on seeing me. “I thought you were never coming. Oh dear, oh dear! Is it as late as that already? Never mind about my grey hat. Come along, William, come along. I’ll explain everything to ydu on the way.”

Schmidt gave us an unpleasant, sarcastic smile as we went out.

When we were comfortably settled on the top of a bus, Arthur became calmer and more coherent.

“First of all,” he fumbled rapidly in all his pockets and produced a folded piece of paper: “Please read that.”

I looked at it. It was a Vorladung from the Political Police. Herr Arthur Norris was requested to present himself at the Alexanderplatz that morning before one o’clock. What would happen should he fail to do so was not stated. The wording was official and coldly polite.

“Good God, Arthur,” I said, “whatever does this mean? What have you been up to now?”

In spite of his nervous alarm, Arthur displayed a certain modest pride.

“I flatter myself that my association with,” he lowered his voice and glanced quickly at our fellow passengers, “the representatives of the Third International has not been entirely unfruitful. I am told that my efforts have even excited favourable comment in certain quarters in Moscow… I told you, didn’t I, that I’d been in Paris? Yes, yes, of course… Well, I had a little mission there to fulfil. I spoke to certain highly placed individuals and brought back certain instructions… Never mind that now. At all events, it appears that the authorities here are better informed than we’d supposed. That is what I have to find out. The whole question is extremely delicate. I must be careful not to give anything away.”

“Perhaps they’ll put you through the third degree.”

“Oh, William, how can you say anything so dreadful? You make me feel quite faint.”

“But, Arthur, surely that would be… I mean, wouldn’t you rather enjoy it?”

Arthur giggled: “Ha, ha. Ha, ha. I must say this, William, that even in the darkest hour your humour never fails to restore me… Well, well, perhaps if the examination were to be conducted by Frl. Anni, or some equally charming young lady, I might undergo it with—er—very mixed feelings. Yes.” Uneasily he scratched his chin. “I shall need your moral support. You must come and hold my hand. And if this,” he glanced nervously over his shoulder, “interview should terminate unpleasantly, I shall ask you to go to Bayer and tell him exactly what has happened.”

“Yes, I will. Of course.”

When we had got out of the bus on the Alexanderplatz, poor Arthur was so shaky that I suggested going into a restaurant and drinking a glass of cognac. Seated at a little table we regarded the immense drab mass of the Praesidium buildings from the opposite side of the roadway.

“The enemy fortress,” said Arthur, “into which poor little I have got to venture, all alone.”

“Remember David and Goliath.”

“Oh, dear. I’m afraid the Psalmist and I have very little in common this morning. I feel more like a beetle about to be squashed by a steam-roller… It’s a curious fact that, since my earliest years, I have had an instinctive dislike of the police. The very cut of their uniforms offends me, and the German helmets are not only hideous but somehow rather sinister. Merely to see one of them filling in an official form in that inhuman copy-book handwriting gives me a sinking feeling in the stomach.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

Arthur brightened a little.

“I’m very glad I’ve got you with me, William. You have such a sympathetic manner. I could wish for no better companion on the morning of my execution. The very opposite of that odious Schmidt, who simply gloats over my misfortune. Nothing makes him happier than to be in a position to say—’I told you so.’ “

“After all, there’s nothing very much they can do to you in there. They only knock workmen about. Remember, you belong to the same class as their masters. You must make them feel that.”

“I’ll try,” said Arthur doubtfully.

“Have another cognac?”

“Perhaps I will, yes.”

The second cognae worked wonders. We emerged from the restaurant into the still, clammy autumn morning, laughing, arm in arm.

“Be brave, Comrade Norris. Think of Lenin.”

“I’m afraid, ha, ha, I find some inspiration in the Marquis de Sade.”

But the atmosphere of the police headquarters sobered him considerably. Increasingly apprehensive and depressed, we wandered along vistas of stone passages with numbered doors, were misdirected up and down flights of stairs, collided with hurrying officials who carried bulging dossiers of crimes. At length we came out into a courtyard, overlooked by windows with heavy iron bars.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” moaned Arthur. “We’ve put our heads into the trap this time, I’m afraid.”

At this moment a piercing whistle sounded from above.

“Hullo, Arthur!”

Looking down from one of the barred windows high above was Otto.

“What did they get you for?” he shouted, jocularly. Before either of us could answer, a figure in uniform appeared beside him at the window and hustled him away. The apparition was as brief as it was disconcerting.

“They seem to have rounded up the whole gang,” I said, grinning.

“It’s certainly very extraordinary,” said Arthur, much perturbed. “I wonder if…”

We passed under an archway, up more stairs, into a honeycomb of little rooms and dark passages. On each floor were wash-basins, painted a sanitary green. Arthur consulted his Vorladung and found the number of the room in which he was to present himself. We parted in hurried whispers.

“Goodbye, Arthur. Good luck. I’ll wait for you here.”

“Thank you, dear boy… And supposing the worst comes to the worst, and I emerge from this room in custody, don’t speak to me or make any sign that you know me unless I speak to you. It may be advisable not to involve you… Here’s Bayer’s address; in case you have to go there alone.”

“I’m certain I shan’t.”

“There’s one more thing I wanted to say to you.” Arthur had the manner of one who mounts the steps of the scaffold. “I’m sorry if I was a little hasty over the telephone this moming. I was very much upset… If this ware to be our last meeting for some time, I shouldn’t like you to remember it against me.”

“What rubbish, Arthur. Of course I shan’t. Now run along, and let’s get this over.”

He pressed my hand, knocked timidly at the door and went in.

I sat down to wait for him, under a blood-red poster advertising the reward for betraying a murderer. My bench was shared by a fat Jewish slum-lawyer and his client, a tearful little prostitute.

“All you’ve got to remember,” he kept telling her, “is that you never saw him again after (he night of the sixth.”

“But they’ll get it out of me somehow,” she sobbed. “I know they will. It’s the way they look at you. And then they ask you a question so suddenly. You’ve no time to think.”

It was nearly an hour before Arthur reappeared. I could see at once from his face that the interview hadn’t been so bad as he’d anticipated. He was in a great hurry.

“Come along, William. Come along. I don’t care to stay here any longer than I need.”

Outside in the street, he hailed a taxi and told the chauffeur to drive to the Hotel Kaiserhof, adding, as he nearly always did: “There’s no need to drive too fast.”

“The Kaiserhof!” I exclaimed. “Are we going to pay a call on Hitler?”

“No, William. We are not… although, I admit, I derive a certain pleasure from dallying in the camp of the enemy. Do you know, I have lately made a point of being manicured there? They have a very good man. To-day, however, I have a quite different object. Bayer’s office is also in the Wilhelmstrasse. It didn’t seem altogether discreet to drive directly from here to there.”