CHAPTER VI
THE GENTLEMAN FROM LONDON
Months had passed since the affair of the six new novels.
In Hamburg Bindo had left me and gone to see the old Jew in Amsterdam,while I had driven the "forty" south through Lueneburg, Brunswick, andNordhausen to Erfurt, where, passing as an English gentleman of means, Iremained for three weeks at a very comfortable hotel, afterwards movingon to Dresden.
At regular intervals the Count sent me money, but he was, as usual,travelling constantly. I wrote to him to a newspaper-shop in theTottenham Court Road, reporting my movements and my whereabouts;therefore I knew not from one day to another when I should receivesudden orders to rejoin him.
The London papers had been full of the affair of the six novels, for itwas now well known that the person who had abstracted the jewels was thesame who had executed such a neat manoeuvre at Gilling's. One or twoof the papers actually published leaderettes upon the subject, severelycriticising the incompetency of the police in such matters. I havesince heard, however, that at Scotland Yard there is a proverb that thewealthier the thief the less chance of his being caught. Bindo and hisfriends certainly did not lack funds. The various hauls they had made,even since my association with them, must have put many thousands intotheir pockets.
They were a clever and daring trio. They never met unless absolutelynecessary in order to arrange some ingenious piece of trickery, and theycould all live weeks at the same hotel without either, by word or sign,betraying previous knowledge of each other. Indeed, Count Bindo diFerraris was the very acme of well-dressed, well-groomed scoundrelism.
Under the name of Ernest Crawford I was idling away some pleasant weeksat the Europaeischer Hof, in the Alstadt, in Dresden, where I had madethe acquaintance of a fair-haired Englishman named Upton, and his wife,a fluffy little woman some five years his junior. They had arrived atthe hotel about a week after I had taken up my quarters, and as theybecame friendly I often took them for runs. Upton was the son of a richLancashire cotton-spinner, and was, I believe, on his honeymoon.Together we saw the sights of Dresden, the Royal Palace, the GreenVault, the museums and galleries, and had soon grown tired of them all.Therefore, almost daily we went for runs along the Elbe valley,delightful at that season of the vintage.
One evening, while we were sitting at coffee in the lounge and I waschatting with Mrs. Upton, her husband was joined by a friend fromLondon, a tall, rather loud-spoken, broad-shouldered man, with a pair ofmerry, twinkling eyes and a reddish moustache. He was a motor-expert, Isoon discovered, for on the afternoon following his arrival, when Ibrought the car round to the hotel, he began to examine it critically.
I had invited him to go with us to the Golden Hoehe, about six milesdistant, and take tea at the restaurant, and he sat at my side as Idrove. While passing through the little village of Raechnitz, Mr.Gibbs--for that was his name--suddenly asked--
"What make of car is yours?"
No wonder he asked, for so constantly had its identity been disguisedthat it nowadays bore about as much resemblance to a Napier as it did toa Panhard. I had always before me the fact that the police were on thelook-out for a forty "Napier"; therefore I had managed to disguise itoutwardly, although a glance within the "bonnet" would, of course,reveal the truth.
"Oh," I replied lightly, "it's quite an unknown make--Bellini, of Turin.I've come to the conclusion that small makers can turn out just as gooda car as, and perhaps even better than, the larger firms--providing youpay a fair price."
"I suppose so," he said rather thoughtfully. "From her general build Itook her to be an English Napier."
"She has the Napier cut," I remarked. "I think Bellini imitates theEnglish style."
It was fortunate, I thought, that the "bonnet" was strapped down andlocked, for the engines were stamped with their maker's name.
"You travel about a lot on her, I suppose," he went on. "It's a finecar, certainly. Did you come across the Continent?"
"Yes. I've been about Europe a good deal," I answered. "Saves railwayfares, you know." And I laughed.
We were travelling quickly, and, the dust being troublesome, we pulledup, and then, after all four of us goggling, went forward again.
After tea at the Golden Hoehe Mr. Gibbs again evinced a keen interest inthe car, examining it carefully, and declaring it to be a most excellentone. Then, on the run back, he again turned the conversation to motoringtopics, with a strenuous desire, it seemed, to know my most recentmovements.
A couple of days passed, and I found Upton's friend a most congenialcompanion. Each afternoon we all went out for a run, and each evening,after dining, we went to the theatre.
On the fourth day after Mr. Gibbs's arrival a messenger brought me anote which, to my surprise, I found to be from Blythe, who directed meto meet him in secret in a certain cafe in the Grosse Garten at eleveno'clock that night.
Then I knew that something further had been planned.
In accordance with the request, I went to the cafe at the hourappointed. It was crowded, but I soon discovered him, smartly dressed,and seated at a table in the corner. After we had finished our beer Ifollowed him out into the park, where, halting suddenly, he said--
"Ewart, you've placed yourself in a pretty fine predicament!"
"What do you mean?" I asked in surprise.
"Well, I saw you yesterday afternoon driving down the Prager-strassewith the very gentleman to whom you ought to give the widest berth."
"You mean Gibbs?"
"I mean that cunning old fox, Inspector Dyer, of Scotland Yard."
"What!" I gasped. "Dyer--is that the famous Dyer?"
"He is. I once, to my cost, had occasion to meet him, and it's hardlylikely that I'd forget his face. I saw you coming along with him, andyou could have knocked me down with a feather."
"But I--well, I really can't believe that he's a detective," I declared,utterly incredulous.
"Believe it, or disbelieve it--it's a fact, I tell you. You've beengiven away somehow, and Dyer has now just got you in his palm."
Briefly I explained how I had met Upton, and how Mr. Gibbs had beenintroduced.
"Upton may not be what he pretends, you know," Blythe replied. "Theywant us very badly at Scotland Yard, and that's why the affair has beengiven over to Dyer. He's the man who generally does the travelling onthe Continent. But you know him well enough by reputation, of course.Everyone does."
Mr. Gibbs's intense interest in the car and its maker was thus accountedfor. I saw how completely I had been taken in, and how entirely I wasnow in the renowned detective's hands. He might already have been roundto the garage, unlocked the "bonnet" with a false key, and seen the name"Napier" stamped upon the engine.
How, I wondered, had he been able to trace me? No doubt the fact that wehad shipped the car across from Parkeston to Hamburg was well known toScotland Yard, yet since that night it had undergone two or threetransformations which had entirely disguised it. I was rapidly growing amoustache, too, and had otherwise altered my personal appearance since Iposed as Bindo's chauffeur in Scarborough.
"The Count, who is lying low in a small hotel in Duesseldorf, wants youto meet him with the car in Turin in a fortnight's time--at the HotelEurope. A Russian princess is staying there--and we have a plan. But itseems very probable that you'll be waiting extradition to Bow Street ifyou don't make a bold move, and slip out of Dyer's hands."
"Yes," I said thoughtfully. "If Gibbs is really Dyer himself, then, Ifear, that although I've been discreet--for I make a point of nevertelling my business to strangers--yet he has more than a suspicion thatthe car is the same as the one I drove daily on the Esplanade atScarborough."
"And if he has a suspicion he has probably wired to England for one ofthe witnesses to come out and identify you--Gilling himself, mostprobably."
"Then we're in a most complete hole!" I declared, drawing a long face.
"Absolutely. What are you going to do?"
"What can I do?"
"Get out of it
--and at once," replied Blythe coolly. "If Dyer discoversand tries to prevent your escape, make a bold fight for it," and fromhis hip-pocket he drew a serviceable-looking plated revolver, and handedit to me with the remark that it was fully loaded.
I saw that my position was one of peril. Even now, Dyer might havewatched me keeping this appointment with Blythe.
"I shall leave for Leipzig in an hour," my friend said. "You'd betterreturn to the hotel, get the car, and make a dash for it."
"Why should I get the car?" I queried "Why not slip away at once?"
"If you tried to you'd probably be 'pinched' at the station. Dyer is anartful bird, you know. Once up with you, he isn't likely to lose sightof you for very long."
As he was speaking I recognised, seated at a table before the cafe somedistance away, my friend Upton, idly smoking a cigar, and apparentlyunconscious of my proximity.
"That's all right," declared Blythe, when I had pointed him out. "Itproves two things--first, that this Mr. Upton is really one of theyounger men from the Yard, and, secondly, that Dyer has sent him afteryou to watch where you went to-night. That's fortunate, for if Dyerhimself had come it's certain he would have recognised me. I gave him arather nasty jag when he arrested me four years ago, so it isn't verylikely he forgets. And now let's part. At all hazards, get away fromDresden. But go back to the hotel first, so as to disarm suspicion. Whenyou are safe, wire to the address in the Tottenham Court Road. So long."
And without another word the well-dressed jewel-thief turned on hisheels, and disappeared in the darkness of the leafy avenue.
My feelings were the reverse of happy as I made my way back to theEuropaeischer Hof. To obtain the car that night would be to arousesuspicion that I had discovered Mr. Gibbs's identity. My safety lay ingetting away quietly and without any apparent haste. Indeed, when Igained my room and calmly thought it all over, I saw that it would bepolicy to wait until next day, when I could obtain the car from thegarage as usual, and slip away before the crafty pair were aware of myabsence.
The reason they had not applied to the German police to arrest me couldbe but one. They had sent to London for someone to come and identify me.This person might arrive at any moment. Dyer had been in Dresden alreadyfour days; therefore, every minute's delay was dangerous.
After long and careful consideration, I resolved to wait until themorrow. No sleep, however, came to my eyes that night, as you may wellimagine. All the scandal of arrest, trial, and imprisonment rose beforeme as the long night hours dragged on. I lit the stove in my room, andcarefully destroyed everything that might give a possible clue to myidentity, and then sat at the window, watching for day to break.
Surely Dyer and Upton had achieved a very clever piece of detective workto discover me as they had. I had done my utmost, as I thought, toefface my identity and to give the car an entirely different appearancefrom that which it had presented at Scarborough. The only manner inwhich I had been "given away" was, I believed, by means of some Englishfive-pound notes which Bindo had sent me from Stettin, and which I hadcashed in Dresden. If these had been stolen--as most probably they hadbeen--then it would well account for the sudden appearance of Mr. Uptonand his very charming wife, who had come holiday-making to Germany.Upton had, in his turn, sent information to his superior officer,Inspector Dyer, who had come out to see for himself.
What an awful fool I had been! How completely I had fallen into thecunningly baited trap!
At last the grey dawn came, spreading to a bright autumn morning. Theroads outside were dry and dusty. I meant, in a few hours, to make abreakneck dash out of Dresden, and to hide somewhere in the country. Toattempt to escape by rail would be folly. But if either man was on thewatch and invited himself to go for a run with me? What then?
I grasped the weapon in my pocket and set my teeth hard, recollectingBlythe's words.
At eight I ordered my coffee, and, drinking it in feverish haste, wentdown to the rear of the hotel where the garage was situated. Whilecrossing the courtyard, however, I met Upton, who had a habit of earlyrising, and was apparently idling about. I purposely did not wear mymotor-cap, but my pockets were stuffed with all my belongings that wereportable.
"Hulloa!" he cried cheerily. "What are you doing to-day--eh?"
"Well," I said, with apparent indifference, "I'm just going to lookround the car before breakfast. Perhaps I'll go for a run later on. Theroads are still in perfect condition."
"Then I'll go with you," was his prompt reply. "My wife has a badheadache, and won't go out to-day. Gibbs, too, is full of business inthe town. So let's go together."
Instantly I saw the ruse. He had been awaiting me, and did not mean thatI should go for a run unaccompanied.
"Certainly," I replied promptly. "Shall you be ready in half an hour?"
"I'm ready now. I've had my coffee." His response was, to say the least,disconcerting. How was I to get rid of him? My only chance lay inremaining perfectly calm and indifferent. A witness to testify to myidentity was, no doubt, on his way out from England, and the twodetectives were holding me up until his arrival.
Together we walked to the car, and for nearly half an hour I wasoccupied in filling the petrol-tank and putting everything in order fora long and hard journey. A breakdown would probably mean my arrest anddeportation to Bow Street. My only safety lay in flight. During thenight I had studied the road-book with infinite care, and decided tomake a dash out of Dresden along the Elbe bank as far as Meissen, andthence by Altenburg across to Erfurt. Upton's self-invitation to go withme had, however, entirely upset my plans.
At last I returned to my room, obtained my motor-cap, coat, and goggles,and, having started the engine, got up at the wheel. My unwelcome friendswung himself up beside me, and we glided out into the Prager-strasseand through the fine capital of Saxony.
My friend, in his smart motor coat and cap, certainly gave no outwardsign of his real profession. Surely no one would have taken him to be anemissary of the Metropolitan Police. As he sat beside me he chattedmerrily, for he possessed a keen sense of humour, and it must havestruck him that the present position was really amusing--from his pointof view.
In half an hour we were out upon a fine level road running on the leftbank of the Elbe. It was a bright sunny autumn morning, and, travellingswiftly as we were, it was delightfully exhilarating. Passing throughold-world Meissen, with its picturesque gabled houses, we continued onanother fifteen miles to a small place called Riesa, and when aboutthree miles farther on I summoned courage to carry out a scheme overwhich, during the run, I had been deeply pondering.
We were in a lonely part of the road, hidden by the long row of poplarslining the broad winding river. On the one side were the trees, and onthe other high sloping vine-lands. The road curved both before andbehind us, therefore we were well concealed.
Pulling up suddenly, I said--
"There's something wrong. One cylinder is not working--sparking-plugbroken, I suppose."
To allow me to descend he got down. Then having unlocked the "bonnet"and pretended to fiddle with the plug, I again relocked it. Afterwards Ifelt the axles all round, saw to the tyres, and, having watched myopportunity, while he was at that moment standing with his back to me,his face turned towards the river, I suddenly sprang into the wheel anddrew off.
In an instant, with a loud shout, "No, you don't!" he sprang forwardupon the step and raised himself into the seat he had occupied. Quick asthought, I whipped my revolver out with my left hand, and, guiding thecar with my right, cried--
"I know you, Mr. Upton. Get down, or I'll shoot you!"
His face blanched, for he had no idea I was armed.
"Get down--quick!" I ordered. "I shan't ask you again."
The car was gathering speed, and I saw that if he attempted to drop offhe would probably be hurt. He glanced at the road and then at me.
"You won't escape so easily as this, Mr. Ewart!" he cried. "We want youfor several jewel robberies, you know. Don't you think you'd better goquietly?
If you shoot me you'll only hang for it. Now do you thinkthat's really worth while? Is such a game worth the candle?"
Without replying, I slowed down again.
"I tell you to get off this car--otherwise you must take theconsequences," was my cool response. Those were terribly excitingmoments, and how I remained so calm I cannot tell. My whole futuredepended upon my extrication from that _impasse_. Perhaps that is why mywits had, in that moment, become so sharpened.
"I shall stay with you," was the police-officer's defiant reply, as,with a sudden movement, he grabbed my left wrist in an endeavour towrest the weapon from my grasp. Next second I had stopped the car,pressed down the brake, and thus had both my hands free.
In a moment the struggle became desperate. He fought for his life, forhe saw that, now he had defied me, I meant what I threatened. No doubthe was physically stronger than myself, and at first he had theadvantage; but not for long, because, resorting to a ruse taught me longago by a man who was a professional wrestler at the music-halls, Isucceeded in turning the muzzle of the weapon into his face.
If I had liked, I could have pulled the trigger and blown half his headaway. Yet, although I had become the accomplice of a daring gang ofjewel-thieves, and though one of them had given me the weapon to use incase of need, I had neither desire nor intention of becoming a murderer.
For fully six or seven minutes we were locked in deadly embrace.Upton, time after time, tried to turn the weapon upon me, and socompel me to give it up under threats of death. In this, however,he was unsuccessful, though more than once he showered at me fierceimprecations.
He had his thin, sinewy hands in my collar, and was pressing his bonyknuckles into my throat, until I was half throttled, when, of a sudden,by dint of an effort of which I had never believed myself capable, Igave his arm a twist which nearly dislocated his shoulder and forced himto release his hold. I still had the revolver tightly clenched in myright hand, for I had now succeeded in changing it from my left, and atlast slipped it back into my hip-pocket, leaving both hands free. Then,in our desperate struggle, he tried to force me backwards over thesteering-wheel, and would have done so had I not been able to trip himunexpectedly. In a second I had flung my whole weight upon him and senthim clutching at the air over the splashboard, and so across the"bonnet" to the ground.
In a moment I restarted the car, but not before he had risen andremounted upon the step.
"You shan't get away!" he cried. "Even if you leave me here you'll bearrested by the German police before night. They already have yourdescription."
"Enough!" I cried savagely, again whipping out my weapon. "Get down--orI'll shoot!"
"Shoot, then!" he shouted defiantly.
"Take that instead!" I replied, and, with the butt-end of the weapon, Istruck him full between the eyes, causing him to fall back into theroad, where he lay like a log.
Without a second glance at him, I allowed the car to gather speed, andin a few moments was running across a flat, level plain at quite fiftymiles an hour. Upton lay insensible, and the longer he remained so thefarther afield I should be able to get without information being sentbefore me.
Mine was now a dash for liberty. Having gone twenty miles, I pulled up,and, unfastening one of the lockers within the car, I drew out thecomplete disguise which Bindo always kept there for emergencies. I hadpurposely halted in a side road, which apparently only led to somefields, and, having successfully transformed myself into a grey-beardedman of about fifty-five, I drew out a large tin of dark-red enamel and abrush, and in a quarter of an hour had transformed the pale-blue bodyinto a dark-red one. So, within half an hour, both myself and the carwere utterly disguised, even to the identification-plates, both backand front. The police would be on the look-out for a pale-blue car,driven by a moustached young man in a leather-peaked motor-cap, whilethey would only see passing a dark-red car driven by its owner, arespectable-looking middle-aged man in a cloth golf-cap, gloves, andgoggles.
I looked at myself in satisfaction by aid of the little mirror, and thenI regarded the hastily-daubed car. Very soon the dust would cling to theenamel, and thus effectually disguise the hurriedness of my handiwork.There was, of course, no doubt that Upton and Dyer would move heaven andearth to rediscover me, therefore in my journey forward I was compelledto exercise all caution.
On consulting my road-book I found that the spot where I had pulled upwas about three miles from Wurzen, on the main Leipzig road, thereforeI decided to give the latter city a wide berth, and took a number ofintricate by-roads towards Magdeburg, hoping to be able to put the carin safe keeping somewhere, and get thence by rail across to Cologne andRotterdam, in which city I might find a safe asylum.
Any attempt to reach Turin was now impossible, and when late that nightI entered the little town of Dessau I sent a carefully worded telegramto Bindo at the little newspaper-shop in the Tottenham Court Road,explaining that, though free, I was still in peril of arrest.
Shortly after midnight, while passing through a little town calledZerbst, half-way between Dessau and Magdeburg, I heard a loud shoutingbehind me, and, turning, saw a policeman approaching hurriedly.
"Where are you from?" he inquired breathlessly.
"From Berlin," was my prompt answer. "I left there at six o'clock thisevening." I know a little German, and made the best use I could of it.
By the light of his lantern he examined my identification-plates, andnoted the colour of the car.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, sir, but I must ask you to come with me tothe police-office."
"Why?" I inquired, with well-assumed indignation. "My lamps are allalight, and I have contravened no law, surely!"
"You are an Englishman. I hear that from your speech."
"That is so. My name is Hartley--William Hartley, and I live inLiverpool."
"We shall not detain you long," was his reply. "I am only carrying outan order we have received."
"An order--what order?"
"To arrest an Englishman who is escaping on a motor-car."
"And am I the Englishman, pray?" I asked sarcastically. "Come, thisis really too huge a joke! Haven't you got the gentleman's personaldescription? What has he done that you should be in search of him?"
"I don't know. The chief has all particulars. Let us go together."
"Oh, very well," I laughed reluctantly. "Just get up here, and I'lldrive you to the office. Which way is it?"
"Straight along," he said, climbing clumsily into the seat beside me."Straight along almost to the end of the town, and then sharp to theleft. I will show you."
As soon as he had settled himself I put such a move on the car thathis breath was almost taken away. Should I take him out into thedarkness beyond the town and there drop him? If I did so, I shouldsurely be arrested, sooner or later. No. The car was disguised byits dark-red enamel, and though I had no intention of going into abrilliantly-lighted office, I felt certain that, if I kept cool, Icould allay the suspicion of the police-official on night-duty.
Ten minutes later I pulled up before the police-office and got down. Inorder not to enter into the light, I made an excuse that my engine wasnot running properly, unlocked the "bonnet" and tinkered with it untilthe official came out to inspect me.
He was a burly, fair-bearded man, with a harsh, gruff voice.
In his hand he carried a slip of paper, which he consulted by the lightof my glaring head-lamps. I saw that it was a copy of a telegram he hadreceived giving my description, for the previous identification-numberof the car was written there.
For a few moments he stood in silence with the man who had arrested myprogress, then, seeing from his face that he found both myself and thecar the exact opposite of what was reported, I said, in an irritatedtone of indignation--
"I must really object to being thus brought here against my will. As aforeigner, I cannot entertain a very high estimate of the intelligenceof the police of Zerbst."
"I trust you will pardon us," was the gruff man's reply, bowing. "Itwas t
he very fact that you were an Englishman that caused suspicion torest upon you. It is an Englishman who is wanted for extensive jewelrobberies. His name is Ewart."
"A very common name in England," was my reply. "But will it not appeara little too high-handed if you arrest every Englishman who rides in amotor-car in any part of Germany on suspicion that he is this thiefEwart? How do they describe the car?"
"Pale-blue," he admitted.
"Well, mine is scarcely that--is it?" I asked, as he stood beside me.
The "bonnet" was open, and by the light of the policeman's lantern hewas admiring the six bright cylinders.
"No," he responded. Even now, however, the bearded fellow seemed onlyhalf convinced. But German officials are a particularly hide-bound genusof mankind.
He saw, however, that I had now grown exasperated, and presently, afterputting a few further questions to me, he expressed his regret that Ishould have suffered any delay or inconvenience, and politely wished mea pleasant journey to my destination.
A lucky escape, I thought, when once again I was out on the broad highroad to Magdeburg, my head-lamps showing a stream of white light faralong the dusty way.
Instead of getting into Magdeburg, as I believed, I found myself, anhour later, in a dark, ill-lit town upon a broad river, and discoveredthat I was in Schoenebeck, on the main road to Hanover. The distance tothe latter city was one hundred miles, and, as I could get away fromthere by half a dozen lines of railway, I decided to push forward, eventhough for the past eighteen hours I had only had a piece of bread anda mug of beer at Dessau.
About eleven o'clock on the following morning, after two tyre troubles,I was passing out of the quaint mediaeval town of Hildesheim, intendingto reach Hanover before noon. I had come around the Haupt Bahnhof andon to the highway beyond the railroad, when my heart gave a leap as apoliceman dashed out into the road in front of me and held up his hand.
"Your name?" he demanded gruffly.
"William Hartley--an Englishman," was my prompt response.
"I must, I regret, insist on your presence at the police-office," hesaid authoritatively.
"Oh!" I cried, annoyed. "I suppose I must go through the same farce asat Zerbst last night."
"You were at Zerbst--you admit that?" asked the man in uniform.
The instant those words left his lips I saw that I was trapped. It was,no doubt, as I had suspected. The superintendent of police at Zerbst hadseen stamped upon the engines the maker's name, "Napier," and this hehad reported by telegraph to Dyer in Dresden. Then a second telegraphicorder had gone forth for my arrest.
"Well," I laughed, "it is surely no crime to admit having been toZerbst, is it? There seems an unusual hue-and-cry over this mysteriousEnglishman, isn't there? But if you say I must go to the police-office,I suppose I must. Get up here beside me and show me the way."
The man clambered up, when, in a moment, I put on all speed forward. Theroad was wide and open, without a house on it.
"No!" he cried; "back--into the town!"
I, however, made no response, but let the car rip along at a good fiftymiles an hour. She hummed merrily.
"Stop! stop! I order you to stop!" he shouted, but I heeded him not. Isaw that he had grown frightened at the fearful pace we were travelling.
Suddenly, when we had gone about seven miles, I pulled up at a lonelypart of the road, and, pointing my revolver at his head, ordered him todescend.
He saw that I was desperate. It was a moment for deeds, not words. I sawhim make a movement to draw out his own weapon; therefore, ere he wasaware of it, I struck him a blow full in the face, practically repeatingmy tactics with Upton. The fellow reeled out of the car, but before Icould get started again he fired twice at me, happily missing me eachtime.
He made a desperate dash to get on the footboard again, but I preventedhim, and in turn was compelled to fire.
My bullet struck his right shoulder, and his weapon fell to the ground.Then I left him standing in the road, uttering a wild torrent of cursesas I waved my hand in defiant farewell.
A mile from Hanover I threw off my grey beard and other disguise, washedmy face in a brook, abandoned the car, and at three o'clock thatafternoon found myself safely in the express for Brussels, on my way toParis, the city which at that moment I deemed safest for me.
From that moment to this I have not been upon German soil.
The Count's Chauffeur Page 6