The Man Without a Memory

by Arthur W. Marchmont

I laughed in my sleeve as I rattled past Fischer's shop and saw him and Braun at the door in earnest conversation, probably canvassing the reason for my lengthy absence. Braun saluted me and I lifted a hand in response. What would he have done had he known!

I let the car rip along to Ellendorf. The sooner I reached the factory, the sooner I should get away—if I was to get away at all, that was. So far as could be judged only one really serious danger threatened me—that Vibach was known to the people at the factory—and even that might be averted, by giving another name and vamping a reason to explain his absence.

Any one who knows the attitude of the average German civilian toward the army will understand the strength of the cards I held. The officer's uniform, an army motor, the fact that Vibach was expected, the possession of an official authority duly signed and stamped, all these were so many self-evident proofs of my good faith, thoroughly calculated to impose on even a sharp-witted business man. If I were accepted as Vibach, nothing short of some stupid blunder could cause the scheme to fail. There was scarcely room even for a blunder, indeed, for the plan seemed almost fool proof.

It was nevertheless only prudent to consider what was to be done, should the unexpected happen. It was clearly best not to give my name until I was sure that Vibach was unknown, and to have a story ready to account for his absence. His name was in the order, and no doubt there would be difficulties raised about delivering the bus to any one else. That could be got over by saying he had told me to see that it was ready for him, and a little manœuvring would probably allow of my going for a trial spin. They might send up a mechanic or a representative of the firm with me; but that would be no great matter. Once we were off the ground, he could be readily dealt with.

I had burnt my boats now and was in too tight a corner to stick at anything, even violence, to win my way to escape.

If even the trial trip was refused, it would still be possible to get away under the pretence of testing the engine. Let me be on board with the engine going, it would need a lot of mechanics to keep me from making a start.

There remained the chance that even this might not be possible, however, and in that case the only thing to be done was to leave the place under a cloud of vituperative indignation and threats. For this possibility, it was necessary to leave the motor where I could reach it readily and without trouble.

The opening scene was all that could be desired. The fact that I was expected caused me to be led at once to the managing proprietor, whose name was Harden; he received me with all the respect due to my uniform; put me at ease by expressing a regret that he had never had the pleasure of seeing me before, although he had heard of my prowess in the air; and declared that he felt honoured at making my personal acquaintance.

I was condescendingly patronizing, thanked him a little boastfully for his compliment, and got to business.

"You have everything ready, of course?" I asked.