The Secret Witness - George Gibbs (best book reader .txt) 📗

rectangularity. He had a long nose, a long upper lip which hung over a thin slit of a mouth which resembled a buttonhole slightly frayed by wear. His chin was long and square and, like his upper lip, blue, as though a stiff black beard were in constant battle with a razor. His eyes were large and regarded Renwick with a mild melancholy as he bowed the Englishman a good morning. Renwick nodded curtly. He had planned another nap and hardly relished sitting awake and staring at the sepulchral visitor. Where last night's weariness had sealed his eyes to the ever-present sense of danger, morning brought counsel of caution and alertness. The leanness of the huge intruder was of the kind that suggested endurance rather than malnutrition, a person who for all his pacific and rather gloomy exterior, could be counted on to be extremely dangerous.

In a situation where any man might prove to be his hidden enemy, Renwick was learning to be wary. And so upon his guard for any movement of hostility, he sat bolt upright and smoked his cigarette, puffing it indolently into the face of his solemn companion. Beyond the first greeting, no words passed between them, and the Englishman, more at his ease, looked out of the window at the low marshlands along the river and planned the business which brought him. Day came swiftly, and before the train reached the city the sun was up in smiling splendor, melting the pale fogbanks of the Danube valley beneath its golden glow.

At the Westbahnhof, Renwick got down, and bag in hand made his way to the railway restaurant for a cup of coffee. The keen morning air had made him hungry, and he breakfasted like a man who does not know where his next meal is coming from. It was not until he paid his check and got up from the table that he noticed his gigantic companion of the train doing likewise, but he gave the matter no thought, and getting into a waiting fiacre drove to the British Consulate to make some necessary arrangements, including the procuring of money for possible large expenses. The Archduke and Duchess, he discovered, had slept in their car, which had been shifted to a train that had left for the south in the early hours of the morning. The service on the road was none too good, except that of the Orient Express, which had gone through last night, but by haste Renwick managed to catch the nine o'clock train for Belgrade, planning to get off it at Ujvidek and trust to Providence for an automobile.

He was no sooner comfortably seated in his compartment and congratulating himself upon its emptiness, which would permit of opportunity for sleep, when the door was thrown open and his tall companion of the early morning solemnly entered. Renwick did not know whether to be surprised or angry, and finished by being both, glancing at the intruder through his monocle in a manner distinctly offensive. But the tall man if aware of the Englishman's antagonism gave no sign of it, clasping his cotton umbrella with large bony hands and gazing gloomily at the passing landscape.

An accidental meeting of two travelers bound in the same direction? Perhaps. But there was too much at stake for Renwick to be willing to take chances, and yet he could not kill and throw out of the window an entire stranger who looked like the proprietor of a small confectionery shop, in mourning for a departed friend. Of course there was nothing to be done, but the man's presence irritated Renwick. As the moments went on, and the man still silently stared out of the window, Renwick's choler diminished. The fellow was quite harmless, a person from whom murder and secret missions were miles asunder. If the man of the green limousine had foreseen that Renwick would take the nine o'clock train for Budapest and had set this behemoth upon him, the man would have made an attempt upon his life this morning in the ride between Vacz and the capital. And how, since the telegraph lines were closed to the German agent, could this person have been put upon the scent? It hardly seemed possible that this was an agent of Germany. And yet as the miles flew by, the stranger's silence, immobility and unchanging expression got on Renwick's nerves. He was in no mood to do a psychopathic duel with a sphinx.

The morning dragged slowly. At Szabadka he got down for lunch and was not surprised to see his traveling companion at his elbow, eating with a deliberation which gave Renwick a momentary hope that the train might get off without him. Renwick was already in his carriage and the guard calling when the fellow stalked majestically from the eating-room munching at the remains of his Böhmische Dalken and entered the carriage, still clinging to the cotton umbrella, and quite oblivious of the powdered sugar with which he was liberally besmeared. Secret agent! The man was a joke—a rectangular comedy in monosyllables.

There was no connection for Brod at Szabadka until late in the afternoon and Renwick hoped to make better time by going on to Ujvidek, a large town, somewhat sophisticated, where the buying or hiring of a machine would be a possibility. During the afternoon he took Marishka's letter from his pocket and studied it again, now quite oblivious of the creature who had curiously enough resumed the same seat opposite him. And in his concentration upon the problem of the note the man was for the moment forgotten. It was only when he glanced up quickly and quite unintentionally that he saw the gaze of his neighbor eagerly watching him. It was only a fleeting glance, but in it, it seemed, the whole character of his fellow traveler had changed. His hands still clasped the umbrella, the sugar was still smeared upon his sallow cheeks, but it seemed that his eyes had glowed with a sudden intentness. A second later when Renwick looked at him again, the man was staring dully at the passing cornfields and vineyards and he thought he had been mistaken. He would have liked to know more of this fellow, and was again tempted to try to draw him out but the recollection of his former venture dismayed him. So he relapsed into silence and lying back in his seat, one hand in his pocket, he closed his eyes and feigned slumber, watching the man through his eyelashes. For a long while nothing happened. Then at last as Renwick's breathing became regular the giant's head turned, and his eyes regarded the Englishman stealthily. Renwick did not move. But he saw his companion lean slightly forward while one hand left the umbrella handle, unbuttoned his coat and then moved very slowly behind him. That was enough for Renwick, who started upright and covered the man with his automatic. But the other had merely drawn a large and rather soiled handkerchief from a pocket of his trousers and was in the act of blowing his nose when he looked up and saw the impending blue muzzle of Renwick's weapon.

Then his jaw dropped and his eyes flew wide open.

"Herr Gott!" he stammered in a husky whisper. "Don't shoot!"

Whether it was the pleasure of discovering that the man had at last found his tongue or whether the innocence of his purpose was explained, Renwick found himself much relieved.

"Are you crazy?" the other was saying. "To draw a pistol upon me like that! What do you mean?"

But Renwick still held the pistol pointed in his neighbor's direction.

"I will trouble you to stand," he said quietly, "with your hands up and back toward me."

The man stared at him wide eyed but at last obeyed, lifting his huge back to its full height, and Renwick ran an investigating hand over his hip pockets. They were empty.

"Thanks," he said at last, "you may be seated." He felt a good deal of a fool but he managed an uncomfortable laugh as he returned the automatic to his pocket. "You see," he explained, "I owe you an apology——"

"Yes, sir—such an outrage upon my dignity. I do not understand——"

"Let me explain," went on Renwick, feeling more idiotic every moment; "I have an enemy who seeks my life and when you put your hand in your pocket I thought that you——"

"It is strange that a gentleman in a railway carriage may not be permitted to blow his nose without being threatened with a pistol," he said hotly.

"But you will admit, my friend, that your always being next to me in trains is at least suspicious."

"Donnerwetter! And why, for the same reason, should I not be suspicious of you?"

"I trust at least that you have no enemies who seek your life."

"Who knows?" he shrugged. "Every man has enemies. I will thank you, sir, to keep your pistol in your pocket."

"Willingly. And in return I may say that you may blow your nose as often as you please."

"Danke," with some irony. "You are very kind. I suppose, if when reaching Ujvidek, I should happen to be going in your direction you would shoot me without further question."

"That would depend on which direction you are taking," replied Renwick, with a sense of abortive humor.

"I go to Brod—thence to Sarajevo——"

"The devil you do——!" cried Renwick in English, starting forward and staring at the man. And then more calmly in German,

"And how are you going?"

The fellow paused and looked out of the window again. "As to that—I do not know," he said slowly.

He had resumed his air of settled gloom, the dignity of which was somewhat marred by a vestige of powdered sugar upon his chin, but in spite of the low esteem in which Renwick had held him, all his former suspicions of the creature rushed over him in a moment.

"And suppose that I, too, should be going to Brod and Sarajevo?" he asked brusquely.

The stranger turned toward him a slow bovine gaze which gradually relaxed into the semblance of a smile.

"Ach so," he replied blandly, "then it is just possible that we may go together."

His manner was sphinxlike again, and the Englishman eyed him curiously, feeling a strong desire to kick him in the shins. But luckily he refrained, saying coolly.

"And what means of transportation do you propose to employ? Of course you know there are no trains——"

"Natürlich."

"Then how shall you travel?"

"And you, Herr Shooter, how shall you go?"

Renwick smiled indulgently.

"If I took an automobile——"

"I should be constrained to go with you."

"Constrained?"

"If you would invite me—or condescend to permit me to pay my share of the expenses."

The man's personality was slowly expanding. Second class confectioners who venture on wild goose chases were rare in Renwick's acquaintance. He was becoming interesting as well as elusive, but Renwick was in no humor for further quibbling.

"I regret that that is impossible. I go on alone," he said decisively.

"Ach, so," said the other sadly. "That is too bad——" His words trailed off into a melancholy silence and he resumed his occupation of looking out of the window. The incident in so far as Renwick was concerned, was concluded.

At least he thought that. At Ujvidek, when Renwick, bag in hand, got down upon the station platform, the stranger stood beside him, fingering his cotton umbrella foolishly and looking this way and that. But when the Englishman after an inquiry of a loiterer, started in search of a garage, he found his fellow traveler at his heels, and the frown which Renwick threw over his shoulder failed utterly to deter him from his purpose—which clearly seemed to be that of continuing his journey in the Englishman's company.

When Renwick reached the garage and talked with the proprietor, a Hungarian whose German was almost negligible, the man of the cotton umbrella abandoned the doorway which he had been darkening with his shadow, and shuffled forward awkwardly.

"If you will permit me," he said solemnly. "I speak the Hungarian quite well. I should be glad