Thirteenth Chapter Herr Grundeis Acquires a Guard of Honor

The windows of Room 61 overlooked Nollendorf Place. And next morning Herr Grundeis noticed, as he was combing his hair, that there seemed to be countless children wandering around there. At least two dozen small boys were playing football before the grass plot in the center of the square. Another group stood on Kleist Street. Children were standing by the entrance to the subway.

“Evidently a holiday,” he grumbled as he put on his tie.

Meanwhile the Professor was holding a business meeting in the theater court and scolding like an English sparrow.

“Here I crack my brains day and night on how to catch the man, and you blockheads meanwhile mobilize the whole of Berlin. Perhaps we need an audience? Maybe we’re making a movie? If the fellow slips through our clutches it will be your fault, you gossiping old maids!”

The others stood patiently in a circle but did not seem to feel any serious twinges of conscience. They were not worried, and Gerold said, “Don’t get excited, Professor, we’ll get the thief one way or another.”

“Oh, get out, you silly nutcrackers! And see to it that the crowd doesn’t spread itself all over the map and that it doesn’t watch the hotel. Get that? Forward, march!”

The boys moved away, and only the detectives remained in the courtyard.

“I borrowed ten marks from the porter,” Emil informed them. “If the man bolts we’ll have money enough to follow him.”

“Just send those children out there home again,” advised Krummbiegel.

“And do you really think they’d go? If Nollendorf Place should burst, they’d stay!” said the Professor.

“Only one thing will help us,” announced Emil. “We must change our plan. We can’t surround Grundeis with secret spies—instead we must simply hunt him down. So that he’ll notice it. From all sides and with all the children.”

“I’ve already thought of that too,” declared the Professor. “We had best change our tactics and drive him into a corner until he has to give himself up.”

“Marvelous,” shouted Gerold.

“He would much rather give the money back than have a hundred children running and shrieking around him for hours till the whole city turns out and the police grab him,” decided Emil.

The others nodded wisely. Just then a bell sounded in the gateway, and Pony Hütchen wheeled beaming into the courtyard.

“Good-morning, detectives,” she called, jumped off her saddle, greeted Cousin Emil, the Professor, and the others, and then produced a little basket that she had tied to the handlebars. “I’ve brought you coffee,” she crowed, “and a few buttered rolls. I even have a clean cup. Oh, the handle is off! Something always goes wrong!”

Now, the boys had all had breakfast. Even Emil in the Hôtel Kreid. But no one wanted to hurt the little girl’s feelings. So they drank coffee and milk out of the cup without a handle and ate rolls as if they had had nothing for four weeks.

“Umm—that tastes wonderful!” called Krummbiegel.

“And how crisp the rolls are!” mumbled the Professor, chewing loyally.

“Isn’t that so?” asked Pony. “Yes, it is always a bit different when there is a woman in the house!”

“In the courtyard,” corrected Gerold.

“How are things in Schumann Street?” asked Emil.

“All right, thanks. And a special message from Grandmother. You’d better come soon, or as a punishment you’ll have to eat fish every day.”

“Oh, the dickens,” murmured Emil and made a face.

“Why, the dickens?” Mittenzwey the younger wanted to know. “Fish is good.” Everybody looked at him with amazement, as it was his habit never to say a word. At that his face got fiery red, and he hid himself behind his big brother.

“Emil can’t eat a bite of fish. If he tries it he has to leave the room,” Pony Hütchen explained.

So they chatted and were all in a very good humor. The boys were especially polite. The Professor held Pony’s wheel. Krummbiegel went to wash out the thermos bottle and the cup. Mittenzwey, senior, folded up the lunch paper very carefully. Emil fastened the basket back on the handlebars. Gerold tested the tires to see if there was enough air in them. And Pony Hütchen hopped around the courtyard, sang a song to herself, and told them all sorts of things meanwhile.

“Wait!” she cried suddenly and halted on one foot. “I have to ask you something. Why are there so frightfully many children out on Nollendorf Place? It looks like a vacation camp.”

“They are inquisitive. They have heard about our criminal hunt. And now they want to be in on it,” explained the Professor.

Just then Gustav came running toward the gate, honked loudly, and shouted, “Quick! He’s coming!” Everybody tried to get out at once.

“Attention: listen,” shouted the Professor. “We’ll surround him on all sides. Children behind him, children before him, children, left and right! Is that clear? Further orders we’ll give as we go. March out!”

They leaped, ran, and stumbled out of the gate. Pony Hütchen alone stayed behind, feeling a little bit offended. But then she swung herself onto her tiny nickel wheel, muttering like her own grandmother, “I don’t like the looks of this! I don’t like the looks of this,” and followed after the boys.

The man in the stiff hat came to the hotel door, walked slowly down the steps, and turned right toward Kleist Street. The Professor, Emil, and Gustav hurried their messengers here and there among the various groups of children. And three minutes later Herr Grundeis was surrounded.

He looked about on all sides, utterly bewildered. The youngsters were talking, laughing, jostling each other, and keeping step with him. Many of them stared at the man until he became embarrassed and looked straight ahead again.

Ssst! a ball flew right by his head. He jumped and quickened his pace. But immediately the children walked just as much faster. He tried to turn off suddenly into a side street. But another troop of youngsters came streaming after him.

“Man, he has a face, as if he wanted to sneeze,” called Gustav.

“Run a little ahead of me,” advised Emil. “He ought not to recognize me yet. He’ll be up against that soon enough.”

Gustav threw back his shoulders and strode before Emil like a boxer who is so muscle-bound he can hardly move. Pony Hütchen rode alongside the procession and tinkled her bell happily.

The man in the stiff hat was noticeably nervous. He had a dark foreboding of what was coming to him, and he strode along with giant steps. But it was of no use. He could not escape his enemies.

Suddenly he stopped stock still, as if nailed to the spot, turned around, and ran back down the street he had just come up. The assembled children turned too, and the order of march was continued in the opposite direction.

Then a small boy—it was Krummbiegel—ran across in front of the man so that he stumbled.

“What’s the matter with you, you young jackanapes?” he shouted, “I am going to call the police at once.”

“Oh, yeh, please do!” jeered Krummbiegel. “We’ve been waiting for that a long time. Just call them up!”

Herr Grundeis had no idea of calling them—quite the contrary. The situation was growing more uncomfortable for him every minute. He began to have unmistakable fears, and he did not know which way to turn. Already people were looking out of all the windows. Already the shopgirls were running out in front of the shops with their customers and asking what was happening. If a policeman should come now it would be all up with him.

Then the thief had an inspiration. He noticed a branch of the Commercial and Private Bank. He broke through the chain of children, hurried up to the door, and disappeared.

The Professor sprang to the door and yelled, “Gustav and I follow him. Emil stays here, meanwhile. When Gustav honks things can start. Then Emil comes in with ten boys. Hunt for the right ones, meanwhile, Emil. It’s going to be a ticklish business.”

Then Gustav and the Professor vanished through the door.

Emil’s ears drummed with his heartbeats. Now the affair must be settled. He called Krummbiegel, Gerold, the Mittenzwey brothers, and a few others, and ordered that the rest should scatter.

The children retreated a few steps from the bank building, but not far. They would not miss on any account what was about to happen.

Pony Hütchen asked a boy to hold her wheel and stepped up to Emil.

“Here I am,” she said. “Head high. It’s getting serious now. Goodness, I’m as nervous as a witch!”

“Do you think perhaps I’m not?” queried Emil.