Second Chapter Policeman Jeschke Keeps Still

In front of the house Emil’s mother said, “If the horse car comes we’ll ride to the station.”

Which one of you knows how a horse car looks? As it is coming round the corner and stopping because Emil waves to it, I will describe it for you quickly before it waddles on again.

Well—first of all, the horse car is a crazy thing. Furthermore, it runs on rails like a real grown-up street car, and the car is very much like one, but there is just an old cab horse hitched to the front of it. For Emil and his friends the old cab horse was simply a disgrace, and they dreamed of electric cars with wires overhead and underneath, and five spotlights in the front, and three in the rear. Only the Mayor of Neustadt thought that the four-mile run could be made well enough with one living horse power. Up to now there had been no talk of electricity, and the driver had nothing to do with steering wheels and levers. Instead he held the reins in his left hand and the whip in his right. Giddap!

And if a man lived at 12 Town Hall Street and he sat in the horse car and wished to get out, he simply knocked on the glass. Then Mr. Driver went, “Whoa!” and the traveler was home. The real stop was perhaps in front of Number 30 or 46. But that didn’t matter to the Neustadt Street Car Company. It had time. The horse had time. The driver had time. The Neustadt citizens had time. And if anyone happened to be in a special hurry he went on foot....

At the railway station Frau Tischbein and her son got out. And while Emil was fishing his bag off the platform a deep voice boomed behind them, “Well, you must be going to Switzerland.”

That was the chief of police, Jeschke. Emil’s mother answered, “No, my boy is going to relatives in Berlin for a week.” Everything turned suddenly dark blue, almost black, before Emil’s eyes. Because he had a very guilty conscience. Recently a dozen of the schoolboys on the way home from gymnastics on the river meadow had jammed an old felt hat down on the cool head of the monument to the Grand Duke, the one called Karl Crooked Face. And then Emil, because he could draw well, had been boosted up by the others and had to paint a red nose and a pitch-black mustache with colored crayons on the face of the Grand Duke! And while he was painting Officer Jeschke had turned up on the other end of the Square.

The boys had torn off like lightning. But there was the danger that he had recognized them.

However, he said nothing, but wished Emil a pleasant journey and then inquired of his mother about the state of her health and her business.

In spite of that Emil was not quite at ease. As he was carrying his bag across the Square to the station he was weak in the knees. And every minute he feared that Officer Jeschke would growl out suddenly behind him, “Emil Tischbein, you are arrested. Hands up!” But nothing at all happened. Perhaps the officer was just going to wait until Emil came back?

Then his mother bought a ticket at the window, a third-class ticket, naturally, and a platform ticket for herself. And they went to Track Number 1—Neustadt Station has four tracks, if you please—and waited for the train to Berlin. There were only a few minutes left.

“Don’t leave anything, dear! And don’t sit on the flowers. You can ask someone to lift your suitcase up into the baggage rack. But be polite about it and say, ‘Please.’”

“I’ll get my suitcase up myself. I’m no baby.”

“All right, then. Don’t forget to get out. You’ll be in Berlin at six-seventeen. At the Friedrich Strasse Station. Don’t get off before that, at the Zoo Station or some other.”

“Have no fear, young woman.”

“And above all, don’t be as fresh with other people as you are with your mother. Don’t throw the paper on the floor when you eat your sandwiches—and—don’t lose your money!”

Emil clutched his coat and dived into his right-hand breast pocket. Then he breathed a sigh of relief and murmured, “All safe.”

He took his mother’s arm and walked with her up and down the platform.

“And don’t overwork, Mummy! And don’t get sick! You would have nobody to take care of you. I’d take a flying machine on the spot and come home. And write me once in a while. And I’ll stay a week at the most, you know that.” Emil hugged his mother close, and she gave him a kiss on his nose.

Then the train for Berlin came thundering in and stopped. Emil gave his mother just another little squeeze and climbed up into a compartment with his suitcase in his hand. His mother handed him his bouquet and his package of sandwiches and asked if he’d found a seat. He nodded.

“Good, get off at Friedrich Strasse!”

He nodded.

“And your grandmother will be waiting at the flower stand.”

He nodded.

“And take care, you young rascal.”

He nodded.

“And be nice to Pony Hütchen. You probably won’t know each other at all!”

He nodded.

“And write me.”

“You me, too.”

And so probably it would have gone on for hours if there hadn’t been any time-table. The conductor with the red leather bag shouted, “All aboard! All aboard!” The doors clanged shut. The engine pulled out. And off they went.

The mother waved her handkerchief for a long time. Then she turned around slowly and went home. And because she had her handkerchief ready in her hand, as it were, she wept a few tears into it.

But not for long. Because at home Frau Fleischermeister Augustin, was waiting, and she wanted a good thorough shampoo.