"Hold your tongue," cried the chief very angrily.
"I'll do nothing of the sort," I rapped out in reply. "This farce has gone too far already and lasted too long. Among the men who know me well in Berlin is the head of the police"; and I spun off a list of imposing names. "I demand to be allowed to go there, or to be taken there, at once; or to send word to my friends to come out and identify me. You refuse me if you dare."
The only immediate result of my protest was an order to take me back to my cell, but it bore good fruit. A very short time afterwards my shirt was returned to me; I was ordered to dress; and told that I was to go to Berlin in accordance with instructions which had been telegraphed from there.
They took me as a prisoner, but I did not care a rap for that. All I wished was to get there. I knew that five minutes' conversation with the police there would see me at liberty.
And so it turned out. I was ushered into the office of Herr Feldermann, who was very high up in the police administration; and the instant his eyes fell on me, he knew me of course, for we had had many a time together.
"This is Mr. Bastable, the Englishman," he said to my conductor. "You can return to Wilden and give my congratulations to your superior there for the zealous discharge of his duty. You may tell him at the same time," he added with a dry manner, "that although the criminal code is comprehensive, it does not yet demand the arrest of a man for the murder of himself."
The man flushed to the roots of his hair, laid down on the table the things which had been taken from my pockets, saluted, and withdrew without a word.
"And now tell me what it all means, Herr Bastable."
"Which ears have you on, official or private?"
"Do you want it kept secret? You've given us a lot of trouble, you know. We have wired your description all over the country. Let us talk it over privately first." He was one of the few men in the police administration who refused to be ruled by red tape, and I knew I could rely absolutely on his word.