Unknown - Isherwood, Christopher (The Berlin Stories - The Last of Mr Norris - Goodbye to Berlin) (TXT)

“What my country needs is a man like Hitler. A real leader. A people without ambition is unworthy to exist.” He turned his handsome, humourless face and regarded me sternly. “You, with your Empire, you must understand that.”

But I refused to be drawn.

“Do you often travel with your uncle?” I asked.

“No. As a matter of fact I was surprised when he asked me

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to come with him here. At such short notice, too; only a week ago. But I love ski-ing, and I thought it would all be quite primitive and simple, like the tour I made with some students last Christmas. We went to the Riesengebirge. We used to wash ourselves every morning with snow in a bucket. One must learn to harden the body. Self-discipline is most important in these times… .”

“Which day did you arrive here?” I interrupted.

“Let’s see. It must have been the day before you did.” A thought suddenly struck Piet. He became more human. He even smiled. “By the way, that’s a funny thing I’d quite forgotten … my uncle was awfully keen to get to know you.”

“To know me?”

“Yes… .” Piet laughed and blushed. “As a matter of fact, he told me to try and find out who you were.”

“He did?”

“You see, he thought you were the son of a friend of his: an Englishman. But he’d only met the son once, a long time ago, and he wasn’t sure. He was afraid that, if you saw him and he didn’t recognize you, you’d be offended.’”

“Well, 1 certainly helped you to make my acquaintance, didn’t I?”

We both laughed.

“Yes, you did.”

“Ha, ha! How very funny!”

“Yes, isn’t it? Very funny indeed.”

When we returned to the hotel for tea, we had some trouble in finding Kuno and Mr. van Hoorn. They were sitting together in a remote corner of the smoking-room, at a distance from the other guests. Mr. van Hoorn was no longer laughing; he spoke quietly and seriously, with his eyes on Kuno’s face. And Kuno himself was as grave as a judge. I had the impression that he was profoundly disturbed and perplexed by the subject of their conversation. But this was only an impression, and a momentary one. As soon as Mr. van Hoorn became aware of my approach, he laughed loudly

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and gave Kuno’s elbow a nudge, as if reaching the climax of a funny story. Kuno laughed too, but with less enthusiasm.

“Well, well!” exclaimed Mr. van Hoorn. “Here are the boys! As hungry as hunters, I’ll be bound! And we two old fogies have been wasting the whole afternoon yarning away indoors. My goodness, is it as late as that? I say, I want my tea!”

“A telegram for you, sir,” said the voice of a page-boy, just behind me. I stepped aside, supposing that he was addressing one of the others, but no; he held the silver tray towards me. There was no mistake. On the envelope, I read my name.

“Aha!” cried Mr. van Hoorn. “Your sweetheart’s getting impatient. She wants you to go back to her.”

I tore open the envelope, unfolded the paper. The message was only three words:

Please return immediately.

I read it over several times. I smiled. “As a matter of fact,” I told Mr. van Hoorn, “you’re quite right. She does.” The telegram was signed “Ludwig.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Something had happened to Arthur. That much was obvious. Otherwise, if he’d wanted me, he’d have sent for me himself. And the mess he was in, whatever it was, must have something to do with the Party, since Bayer had signed the tele—

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gram. Here my reasoning came to an end. It was bounded by guesses and possibilities as vague and limitless as the darkness which enclosed the train. Lying in my berth, I tried to sleep and couldn’t. The swaying of the coach, the clank of the wheels kept time with the excited, anxious throbbing of my heart. Arthur, Bayer, Margot, Schmidt; I tried the puzzle backwards, sideways, all ways up. It kept me awake the whole night.

Years later it seemed, though actually only the next afternoon, I let myself into the flat with the latchkey; quickly pushed open the door of my room. In the middle of it sat Frl. Schroeder, dozing, in the best armchair. She had taken off her slippers and was resting her stockinged feet on the footstool. When one of her lodgers was away, she often did this. She was indulging in the dream of most landladies, that the whole place was hers.

If I had returned from the dead, she could hardly have uttered a more piercing scream on waking and seeing my figure in the doorway.

“Herr Bradshaw! How you startled me!”

“I’m sorry, Frl. Schroeder. No, please don’t get up. Where’s Herr Norris?”

“Herr Norris?” She was still a bit dazed. “I don’t know, I’m sure. He said he’d be back about seven.”

“He’s still living here, then?”

“Why, of course, Herr Bradshaw. What an idea!” Frl. Schroeder regarded me with astonishment and anxiety. “Is anything the matter? Why didn’t you let me know that you were coming home sooner? I was going to have given your room a thorough turn-out tomorrow.”

“That’s perfectly all right. I’m sure everything looks very nice. Herr Norris hasn’t been ill, has he?”

“Why, no.” Frl. Schroeder’s perplexity was increasing with every moment. “That is, if he has he hasn’t said a word about it to me, and he’s been up and about from morning to midnight. Did he write and tell you so?”

“Oh no, he didn’t do that … only … when I went

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away I thought he looked rather pale. Has anybody rung up for me or left any messages?”

“Nothing, Herr Bradshaw. You remember, you told all your pupils you would be away until the New Year.”

“Yes, of course.”

I walked over to the window, looked down into the dank, empty street. No, it wasn’t quite empty. Down there, on the corner, stood a small man in a buttoned-up overcoat and a felt hat. He paced quietly up and down, his hands folded behind his back, as if waiting for a girl friend.

“Shall I get you some hot water?” asked Frl. Schroeder tactfully. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked tired, dirty and unshaved

“No, thank you,” I said, smiling. “There’s something I’ve got to attend to first. I shall be back in about an hour. Perhaps you’d be so kind and heat the bath?”

‘Tes, Ludwig’s here,” the girls in the outer office at the Wilhelmstrasse told me. “Go right in.”

Bayer didn’t seem in the least surprised to see me. He looked up from his papers with a smile.

“So here you are, Mr. Bradshaw! Please sit down. You have enjoyed your holiday, I hope?”

I smiled.

“Well, I was just beginning to …”

“When you got my telegram? I am sorry, but it was necessary, you see.”

Bayer paused; regarded me thoughtfully; continued:

“I’m afraid that what I have to say may be unpleasant for you, Mr. Bradshaw. But it is not right that you are kept any longer in ignorance of the truth.”

I could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the room; everything seemed to have become very quiet. My heart was thumping uncomfortably against my ribs. I suppose that I half guessed what was coming.

“You went to Switzerland,” Bayer continued, “with a certain Baron Pregnitz?”

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Tes. That’s right.” I licked my lips with my tongue.

“Now I am going to ask you a question which may seem that I interfere very much in your private affairs. Please do not be offended. If you do not wish it, you will not answer, you understand?”

My throat had gone dry. I tried to clear it, and made an absurdly loud, grating sound.

“I’ll answer any question you like,” I said, rather huskily.

Bayer’s eyes brightened approvingly. He leant forward towards me across the writing-table.