Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1938-02-11
CHAPTER 3

in the northern part of the city. Tt
reach it 1 must go through dark yard:
and narrow streets and over higF
walls. Here and there a chain rattles
but it is only the chains of dogs har'
messed in carts There are no watcf
dogs in this part of the city save the
human variety who go by twos, theil
heavy boots beating out the tune: we
come, we come, by twos, by twos, ia
ia, wir zwei, wir zwei, die Polizi.
Finally 1 am in my house. 1t is
only three little rooms under the roof
On the door is sign-"Peddler." One
must have some sort of a trade. AS
l look out of my little window l see
bright shadows dancing along the
horizon--before long the sun will rise.
Here in my room 1 must light lamp.
Heaven and hell-what night that
was! l feel as though had been put
through the wringer twice. ache
all over-my hands are bloody. Where
am l wounded? turn my hands ov-
er, but can find no wound-not even
a scratch; they are red and swollen
but not cut I have blue marks on my
neck, but they are the finger marks
of the Consul and, as I think of him,
1 can feel his throttling grip.
There is no wound on my neck.
Where does the blood come from? My
brain is numbed by this battling
query-where is the wound? Finally
l realize that the blood is not mine.
But how does it come one my hands
/ look with horror at the now dark
and dried stains. l take a glass of
water-in my nervousness | let it fall
it is shattered. / lean over to stop
up the wetness and again l hear that
drip, drip, drip. 1t is water dropping
from the table to the floor. My
thoughts go back to the villa, to the
room of darkness and its drip, drip,
drip which l cannot explain.
Now l know what it was that drip
ped in that awful room, it was not
water but blood. 1 was not hit, but
some one else was. Not only was
the light broken by the shot but some
one was wounded or killed, and some
how had put my hands in his or her
blood Had l not heard groan? It
probably was the groan of the one
who was dying.
But which was shot? The Consul?
The girl? AS began to think of this
girl who had captured my heart in
the terrible moments she had gazed
into my eyes, began to tremble. Am
l guilty of her death? Shall I nev-
er see her again?
What in heavens name had hap
pened in that villa?
Two shots had been fired-one ex-
plosively loud and one comparatively
soft, but both reports had been dis
tinct. 1 knew that the revolver of
the Consul was noiseless, so believe
that neither were fired by the Con-
sui. The soft shot was from the girls
revolver, but who had fired the loud
shot9 Of course, third party. But
who could the third person be? And
at whom had he shot? At me? At
the Consul? At the girl? Or was this
unknown third person hit by her shot?
And so on and on 1 argued in
circles. Why had the Consul not shot?
Perhaps he had shot at the same time
as the others.
Where was the third person? Where
did the Consul go? Why had none
of the three uttered word? And
then-was the fist against my throat
that of the Consul?
These questions tormented me.
took the casket, the cause of it all,
and threw it on the floor. Then seized
with anger 1 kicked it with all my
might into a corner. 1t lay there
with the cover wrenched off. l start
ed to kick it again, when saw mon
ey-a 1000 mark bill!
l snatched up the box and took
it to the table. l drew out twenty
of the 1000 mark bills! And stared
like a lunatic at the money. Then
something cried to me that it was
counterfeit. l held bill to the light,
then another one, and so on, but all
twenty bills were real!
l Thought of the Consul's words
"I fear that for you the pay may be
unpleasantly high"
With his own free viii the Con
sui had given me the casket and ht
surely knew what it contained.
The whole thing intrigued me.
brooded and brooded about it. Sud
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