Twelfth Chapter A Green Elevator Boy Bursts from His Cocoon

About ten o’clock a detachment of the guard appeared in the courtyard, brought along enough sandwiches to feed a hundred hungry men, and asked for further orders.

The Professor was much annoyed and explained that they had no business there at all but should have waited at Nikolsburger Place for Traugott the messenger from the telephone bureau.

“Don’t be so disgusting!” said Petzold. “Naturally we are simply curious to know how things look here with you.”

“And besides, we thought something had happened to you because Traugott never showed up,” Gerold added apologetically.

“How many are there still at Nikolsburger Place?” asked Emil.

“Four. Or, rather, three,” Friedrich the First corrected himself.

“There might even be only two,” added Gerold.

“Don’t ask them again,” cried the Professor angrily, “or they’ll say next that there’s nobody there at all, now.”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t shout so,” said Petzold. “I don’t give a hoot for being ordered around by you.”

“I move that Petzold be thrown out at once and that he is forbidden to take any further part in the chase,” stormed the Professor, and stamped his foot.

“I’m sorry that you two get mad at each other on my account,” said Emil. “We ought to vote like the senate. I move that Petzold just be given strict warning. Because, naturally, it isn’t possible for each one of us to do just what he wants.”

“Think you’re smart, don’t you, you pigs. I’m going anyhow, if you want to know.” Then Petzold added something terribly impolite and left.

“It was all his idea. Otherwise we certainly wouldn’t have come here,” Gerold told them. “And Zerlett stayed back in the Reserve headquarters.”

“Not another word about Petzold,” commanded the Professor and already he was talking quite calmly again. He took a firm grip on himself. “Dismissed.”

“And now what becomes of us?” questioned Friedrich the First.

“It would be best for you to wait until Gustav comes back from the hotel and makes a report,” Emil proposed.

“Good,” said the Professor. “Isn’t that the bell boy, there?”

“Yes, there he is,” agreed Emil.

In the gateway stood a boy in a green livery with a rakish green cap at just the right angle on his head. He waved to the others and slowly strolled nearer.

“He’s got a swell uniform, by thunder,” said Gerold enviously.

“Do you bring news of our spy Gustav?” called the Professor.

The boy was by this time quite close. He nodded and said, “Yes, indeed.”

“All right, what’s happened?” asked Emil eagerly.

Suddenly a horn tooted, and the green boy jumped around as if he’d lost his senses—laughing all the while.

“Emil, man!” he called, “but you are dumb!”

Of course, it wasn’t the bell boy at all, but Gustav himself.

“You green rascal!” scolded Emil jokingly.

Then the others laughed too, until someone in one of the houses on the court opened a window and shouted, “Quiet, down there!”

“Magnificent!” said the Professor. “But quieter, gentlemen. Come here, Gustav, sit down and tell us all about it.”

“Man, it’s as good as a movie. It’s enough to make a cat laugh. Well, then, listen! I slunk into the hotel, saw the bell boy standing around, and gave him the high sign. He came over to me, and I told him the whole story straight from A to Z. About Emil. And about us. And about the thief. And that he was staying at the hotel. And that we had to look sharp so that we could get the money off him again to-morrow.

“‘Fine!’ said the boy. ‘I have another uniform. You put it on and make a second bell boy.’

“‘But what will the head porter say about that? He’ll surely tattle,’ I answered.

“‘He won’t tell on us, he’ll let us,’ he said, ‘because the porter is my father.’

“What he told his old man, I don’t know. Anyway, I got the uniform. I can sleep in one of the empty servants’ rooms and even bring someone else with me. Now, what do you say?”

“In what room is the thief staying?” asked the Professor.

“A fellow can’t ever get a rise out of you, can he?” said Gustav disgruntled. “Naturally, I have no work to do. I must keep out of the way. The boy guessed that the thief was rooming in Number 61. So I ran up to the third story and played spy. So as not to attract any attention, you understand. Waited behind banisters, and so on. After about half an hour, sure enough, the door of 61 opened. And who came bustling out? Our Mr. Thief. I had looked him over this afternoon. It was our man, all right. Little black mustache, ears that the moon could shine through, and a face that I wouldn’t take as a gift. As he came down the hall I rolled out in front of his legs, stood at attention, and asked him, ‘Are you looking for anything, sir?’

“‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t need anything. Or, wait a minute! You can tell the clerk to call me at eight o’clock sharp to-morrow morning. Room 61. Don’t forget!’

“‘No, you can depend on it, sir,’ I said, and pinched myself in the pants I was so excited. ‘I won’t forget. At eight o’clock sharp the telephone bell will ring in Room 61.’ They call people by telephone. He nodded quietly and drifted back to his room.”

“Excellent!” The Professor was tremendously pleased, and the others too.

“At eight o’clock he’ll have a bodyguard waiting for him at the hotel. Then the chase will go on. And then he’ll be trapped.”

“He is just as good as settled now,” called Gerold.

“Please omit flowers,” said Gustav. “And now I’ll chase off. I must put a letter in the box for Number 12. A ten-cent tip. It’s a profitable job. The bell boy gets as much as ten marks a day. So he says! Now, then, about seven o’clock I’ll get up and take care that this guy is waked on the dot. And then I’ll come back here.”

“Good boy, Gustav, I’m grateful to you,” said Emil solemnly. “Now nothing more can happen. To-morrow he’ll be caught. And now we can all go to sleep in peace, can’t we, Professor?”

“Certainly. Everybody digs out and goes to bed. And to-morrow morning, eight o’clock sharp, all those present be back here. Anybody who can drag out some money, do it. I’ll call up little Dienstag, now. He can round up the others as reserves when they call him in the morning. We may have to corral the man. You never can tell.”

“I’ll go with Gustav to sleep in the hotel,” said Emil.

“Let’s go, man! It will suit you right down to the ground. It’s superb!”

“I’ll telephone first,” planned the Professor. “Then I’ll go home too and send Zerlett home. Otherwise he’ll wait till morning at Nikolsburger Place for further orders. Is everything clear?”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Chief of Police,” laughed Emil.

“To-morrow, here in the court, at eight sharp,” said Gerold.

“Bring a little money,” reminded Friedrich the First.

They separated. First they all shook hands solemnly. Some marched home. Gustav and Emil went into the hotel. The Professor crossed over Nollendorf Place to telephone little Dienstag from the Café Hahnen.

And an hour later they were all asleep. Most of them in their beds. Two in a servant’s room on the fourth floor of the Hôtel Kreid.

And one at the telephone in his father’s armchair. That was little Dienstag. He did not desert his post. Traugott had gone home. But little Dienstag didn’t stir from the telephone. He huddled down in the cushions and slept and dreamed of four million telephone conversations.

At midnight his parents came home from the theater. They were surprised to find their son in the armchair.

His mother picked him up and carried him to bed. He cuddled down and murmured in his sleep. “Password, Emil!”