The German, with an effort, turned roughly to Tommy.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?” parried Tommy, searching desperately in his own mind.
Suddenly Boris stepped forward, and shook his fist in Tommy’s face.
“Speak, you swine of an Englishman–speak!”
“Don’t get so excited, my good fellow,” said Tommy calmly. “That’s the worst of you foreigners. You can’t keep calm. Now, I ask you, do I look as though I thought there were the least chance of your killing me?”
He looked confidently round, and was glad they could not hear the persistent beating of his heart which gave the lie to his words.
“No,” admitted Boris at last sullenly, “you do not.”
“Thank God, he’s not a mind reader,” thought Tommy. Aloud he pursued his advantage:
“And why am I so confident? Because I know something that puts me in a position to propose a bargain.”
“A bargain?” The bearded man took him up sharply.
“Yes–a bargain. My life and liberty against—-” He paused.
“Against what?”
The group pressed forward. You could have heard a pin drop.
Slowly Tommy spoke.
“The papers that Danvers brought over from America in the Lusitania.”
The effect of his words was electrical. Every one was on his feet. The German waved them back. He leaned over Tommy, his face purple with excitement.
“Himmel! You have got them, then?”
With magnificent calm Tommy shook his head.
“You know where they are?” persisted the German.
Again Tommy shook his head. “Not in the least.”
“Then–then—-” angry and baffled, the words failed him.
Tommy looked round. He saw anger and bewilderment on every face, but his calm assurance had done its work–no one doubted but that something lay behind his words.
“I don’t know where the papers are–but I believe that I can find them. I have a theory—-”
“Pah!”
Tommy raised his hand, and silenced the clamours of disgust.
“I call it a theory–but I’m pretty sure of my facts–facts that are known to no one but myself. In any case what do you lose? If I can produce the papers–you give me my life and liberty in exchange. Is it a bargain?”
“And if we refuse?” said the German quietly.
Tommy lay back on the couch.
“The 29th,” he said thoughtfully, “is less than a fortnight ahead—-”
For a moment the German hesitated. Then he made a sign to Conrad.
“Take him into the other room.”
For five minutes, Tommy sat on the bed in the dingy room next door. His heart was beating violently. He had risked all on this throw. How would they decide? And all the while that this agonized questioning went on within him, he talked flippantly to Conrad, enraging the cross-grained doorkeeper to the point of homicidal mania.
At last the door opened, and the German called imperiously to Conrad to return.
“Let’s hope the judge hasn’t put his black cap on,” remarked Tommy frivolously. “That’s right, Conrad, march me in. The prisoner is at the bar, gentlemen.”
The German was seated once more behind the table. He motioned to Tommy to sit down opposite to him.
“We accept,” he said harshly, “on terms. The papers must be delivered to us before you go free.”
“Idiot!” said Tommy amiably. “How do you think I can look for them if you keep me tied by the leg here?”
“What do you expect, then?”
“I must have liberty to go about the business in my own way.”
The German laughed.
“Do you think we are little children to let you walk out of here leaving us a pretty story full of promises?”
“No,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “Though infinitely simpler for me, I did not really think you would agree to that plan. Very well, we must arrange a compromise. How would it be if you attached little Conrad here to my person. He’s a faithful fellow, and very ready with the fist.”
“We prefer,” said the German coldly, “that you should remain here. One of our number will carry out your instructions minutely. If the operations are complicated, he will return to you with a report and you can instruct him further.”
“You’re tying my hands,” complained Tommy. “It’s a very delicate affair, and the other fellow will muff it up as likely as not, and then where shall I be? I don’t believe one of you has got an ounce of tact.”