Chapter III: Part 3

The Professor and Emil paced back and forth before the door and talked to each other about their teachers. Then the Professor picked out the differences between the German and foreign license plates that went by until Emil understood a little about them. And then they thoughtfully ate a sandwich together.

By this time it was dark. Electric ads flamed everywhere. The elevated thundered overhead. The subway rumbled beneath. Street cars and motor busses, private cars and motor cycles, made a crazy concert. Dance music came from the Woerz Café. The movie theater on Nollendorf Place began its last show. And many people crowded in.

“Such a big tree as that over by the station looks like a freak here,” mused Emil. “It looks as if it had lost its way.” The boy was enchanted and thrilled. And he almost forgot why he was there and that he had lost a hundred and forty marks.

“Of course, Berlin is wonderful. You’d think you were sitting in a movie. But I’m not sure whether I’d want to live here always. In Neustadt we have an Upper Market and a Lower Market and a Station Square! And the playgrounds by the river and in Amsel Park. That is all. But still, Professor, I believe it is enough for me. Always such a holiday racket, always a hundred thousand streets and squares? I’d be lost all the time. Imagine if I didn’t have you with me and were standing here all alone! It gives me the creeps to think of it.”

“You get used to it,” answered the Professor. “Probably I couldn’t stand it in Neustadt, with its three squares and its Amsel Park.”

“You get used to it,” said Emil, “but Berlin is a great sight. No doubt of it, Professor. Wonderful.”

“Is your mother really very strict?” asked the Berlin boy.

“My mother?” asked Emil. “Not a bit of it. She lets me do everything. But I don’t. You understand?”

“No,” the Professor said frankly, “I don’t understand.”

“No? Well, then, I’ll tell you. Have your people much money?”

“I don’t know about that. We don’t talk much about it at home.”

“I guess, when people don’t talk much about it, it means they have plenty of it.”

The Professor considered a moment and then admitted, “That is quite likely.”

“You see. We often talk about it, my mother and I. We have very little. And she has to keep on earning, and still there’s hardly ever enough to make both ends meet. But when we have a class excursion my mother gives me just as much money as any of the other boys get. Sometimes even more.”

“How can she, though?”

“That I don’t know. But she can. And then I bring half of it back.”

“Does she want you to?”

“Silly! I want to!”

“Uhuh!” said the Professor. “That’s the way it is.”

“Yes, just like that. And if she lets me go out into the country with Prötzsch, who lives upstairs, and stay until nine o’clock, I come back by seven because I don’t want her to sit in the kitchen and eat her supper alone. Of course, she wanted me to stay with the others. And I tried it, too. But it wasn’t any fun. Anyway inside she is glad that I come home early.”

“Uhm,” said the Professor, “it’s entirely different at our house. If I really come home on time I can bet that they’ll be at the theater or invited out somewhere. We like each other all right. I must say that. But we don’t make any fuss about it.”

“That is the only thing we can afford. But that doesn’t make me a mamma’s baby, not by a long shot. And if anybody doesn’t believe that, I’ll smash him against the wall. That’s very simple to understand.”

“I do understand.”

The two boys stood for a while in the gateway without speaking. Night came. And the moon peeped with one eye over the elevated.

The Professor cleared his throat and asked without looking at the other, “You’re pretty fond of each other, aren’t you?”

“Frightfully,” answered Emil.

Twelfth Chapter

A Green Elevator Boy Bursts from His Cocoon

About ten o’clock a detachment of the guard appeared in the courtyard, brought along enough sandwiches to feed a hundred hungry men, and asked for further orders.

The Professor was much annoyed and explained that they had no business there at all but should have waited at Nikolsburger Place for Traugott the messenger from the telephone bureau.

“Don’t be so disgusting!” said Petzold. “Naturally we are simply curious to know how things look here with you.”

“And besides, we thought something had happened to you because Traugott never showed up,” Gerold added apologetically.

“How many are there still at Nikolsburger Place?” asked Emil.

“Four. Or, rather, three,” Friedrich the First corrected himself.

“There might even be only two,” added Gerold.

“Don’t ask them again,” cried the Professor angrily, “or they’ll say next that there’s nobody there at all, now.”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t shout so,” said Petzold. “I don’t give a hoot for being ordered around by you.”

“I move that Petzold be thrown out at once and that he is forbidden to take any further part in the chase,” stormed the Professor, and stamped his foot.

“I’m sorry that you two get mad at each other on my account,” said Emil. “We ought to vote like the senate. I move that Petzold just be given strict warning. Because, naturally, it isn’t possible for each one of us to do just what he wants.”

“Think you’re smart, don’t you, you pigs. I’m going anyhow, if you want to know.” Then Petzold added something terribly impolite and left.

“It was all his idea. Otherwise we certainly wouldn’t have come here,” Gerold told them. “And Zerlett stayed back in the Reserve headquarters.”

“Not another word about Petzold,” commanded the Professor and already he was talking quite calmly again. He took a firm grip on himself. “Dismissed.”

“And now what becomes of us?” questioned Friedrich the First.

“It would be best for you to wait until Gustav comes back from the hotel and makes a report,” Emil proposed.

“Good,” said the Professor. “Isn’t that the bell boy, there?”

“Yes, there he is,” agreed Emil.

In the gateway stood a boy in a green livery with a rakish green cap at just the right angle on his head. He waved to the others and slowly strolled nearer.

“He’s got a swell uniform, by thunder,” said Gerold enviously.

“Do you bring news of our spy Gustav?” called the Professor.

The boy was by this time quite close. He nodded and said, “Yes, indeed.”

“All right, what’s happened?” asked Emil eagerly.

Suddenly a horn tooted, and the green boy jumped around as if he’d lost his senses—laughing all the while.

“Emil, man!” he called, “but you are dumb!”

Of course, it wasn’t the bell boy at all, but Gustav himself.

“You green rascal!” scolded Emil jokingly.

Then the others laughed too, until someone in one of the houses on the court opened a window and shouted, “Quiet, down there!”

“Magnificent!” said the Professor. “But quieter, gentlemen. Come here, Gustav, sit down and tell us all about it.”

“Man, it’s as good as a movie. It’s enough to make a cat laugh. Well, then, listen! I slunk into the hotel, saw the bell boy standing around, and gave him the high sign. He came over to me, and I told him the whole story straight from A to Z. About Emil. And about us. And about the thief. And that he was staying at the hotel. And that we had to look sharp so that we could get the money off him again to-morrow.

“‘Fine!’ said the boy. ‘I have another uniform. You put it on and make a second bell boy.’

“‘But what will the head porter say about that? He’ll surely tattle,’ I answered.

“‘He won’t tell on us, he’ll let us,’ he said, ‘because the porter is my father.’

“What he told his old man, I don’t know. Anyway, I got the uniform. I can sleep in one of the empty servants’ rooms and even bring someone else with me. Now, what do you say?”

“In what room is the thief staying?” asked the Professor.

“A fellow can’t ever get a rise out of you, can he?” said Gustav disgruntled. “Naturally, I have no work to do. I must keep out of the way. The boy guessed that the thief was rooming in Number 61. So I ran up to the third story and played spy. So as not to attract any attention, you understand. Waited behind banisters, and so on. After about half an hour, sure enough, the door of 61 opened. And who came bustling out? Our Mr. Thief. I had looked him over this afternoon. It was our man, all right. Little black mustache, ears that the moon could shine through, and a face that I wouldn’t take as a gift. As he came down the hall I rolled out in front of his legs, stood at attention, and asked him, ‘Are you looking for anything, sir?’

“‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t need anything. Or, wait a minute! You can tell the clerk to call me at eight o’clock sharp to-morrow morning. Room 61. Don’t forget!’

“‘No, you can depend on it, sir,’ I said, and pinched myself in the pants I was so excited. ‘I won’t forget. At eight o’clock sharp the telephone bell will ring in Room 61.’ They call people by telephone. He nodded quietly and drifted back to his room.”

“Excellent!” The Professor was tremendously pleased, and the others too.

“At eight o’clock he’ll have a bodyguard waiting for him at the hotel. Then the chase will go on. And then he’ll be trapped.”

“He is just as good as settled now,” called Gerold.

“Please omit flowers,” said Gustav. “And now I’ll chase off. I must put a letter in the box for Number 12. A ten-cent tip. It’s a profitable job. The bell boy gets as much as ten marks a day. So he says! Now, then, about seven o’clock I’ll get up and take care that this guy is waked on the dot. And then I’ll come back here.”

“Good boy, Gustav, I’m grateful to you,” said Emil solemnly. “Now nothing more can happen. To-morrow he’ll be caught. And now we can all go to sleep in peace, can’t we, Professor?”

“Certainly. Everybody digs out and goes to bed. And to-morrow morning, eight o’clock sharp, all those present be back here. Anybody who can drag out some money, do it. I’ll call up little Dienstag, now. He can round up the others as reserves when they call him in the morning. We may have to corral the man. You never can tell.”

“I’ll go with Gustav to sleep in the hotel,” said Emil.

“Let’s go, man! It will suit you right down to the ground. It’s superb!”

“I’ll telephone first,” planned the Professor. “Then I’ll go home too and send Zerlett home. Otherwise he’ll wait till morning at Nikolsburger Place for further orders. Is everything clear?”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Chief of Police,” laughed Emil.

“To-morrow, here in the court, at eight sharp,” said Gerold.

“Bring a little money,” reminded Friedrich the First.

They separated. First they all shook hands solemnly. Some marched home. Gustav and Emil went into the hotel. The Professor crossed over Nollendorf Place to telephone little Dienstag from the Café Hahnen.

And an hour later they were all asleep. Most of them in their beds. Two in a servant’s room on the fourth floor of the Hôtel Kreid.

And one at the telephone in his father’s armchair. That was little Dienstag. He did not desert his post. Traugott had gone home. But little Dienstag didn’t stir from the telephone. He huddled down in the cushions and slept and dreamed of four million telephone conversations.

At midnight his parents came home from the theater. They were surprised to find their son in the armchair.

His mother picked him up and carried him to bed. He cuddled down and murmured in his sleep. “Password, Emil!”

Thirteenth Chapter

Herr Grundeis Acquires a Guard of Honor

The windows of Room 61 overlooked Nollendorf Place. And next morning Herr Grundeis noticed, as he was combing his hair, that there seemed to be countless children wandering around there. At least two dozen small boys were playing football before the grass plot in the center of the square. Another group stood on Kleist Street. Children were standing by the entrance to the subway.

“Evidently a holiday,” he grumbled as he put on his tie.

Meanwhile the Professor was holding a business meeting in the theater court and scolding like an English sparrow.

“Here I crack my brains day and night on how to catch the man, and you blockheads meanwhile mobilize the whole of Berlin. Perhaps we need an audience? Maybe we’re making a movie? If the fellow slips through our clutches it will be your fault, you gossiping old maids!”

The others stood patiently in a circle but did not seem to feel any serious twinges of conscience. They were not worried, and Gerold said, “Don’t get excited, Professor, we’ll get the thief one way or another.”

“Oh, get out, you silly nutcrackers! And see to it that the crowd doesn’t spread itself all over the map and that it doesn’t watch the hotel. Get that? Forward, march!”

The boys moved away, and only the detectives remained in the courtyard.

“I borrowed ten marks from the porter,” Emil informed them. “If the man bolts we’ll have money enough to follow him.”

“Just send those children out there home again,” advised Krummbiegel.

“And do you really think they’d go? If Nollendorf Place should burst, they’d stay!” said the Professor.

“Only one thing will help us,” announced Emil. “We must change our plan. We can’t surround Grundeis with secret spies—instead we must simply hunt him down. So that he’ll notice it. From all sides and with all the children.”

“I’ve already thought of that too,” declared the Professor. “We had best change our tactics and drive him into a corner until he has to give himself up.”

“Marvelous,” shouted Gerold.

“He would much rather give the money back than have a hundred children running and shrieking around him for hours till the whole city turns out and the police grab him,” decided Emil.

The others nodded wisely. Just then a bell sounded in the gateway, and Pony Hütchen wheeled beaming into the courtyard.

“Good-morning, detectives,” she called, jumped off her saddle, greeted Cousin Emil, the Professor, and the others, and then produced a little basket that she had tied to the handlebars. “I’ve brought you coffee,” she crowed, “and a few buttered rolls. I even have a clean cup. Oh, the handle is off! Something always goes wrong!”

Now, the boys had all had breakfast. Even Emil in the Hôtel Kreid. But no one wanted to hurt the little girl’s feelings. So they drank coffee and milk out of the cup without a handle and ate rolls as if they had had nothing for four weeks.

“Umm—that tastes wonderful!” called Krummbiegel.

“And how crisp the rolls are!” mumbled the Professor, chewing loyally.

“Isn’t that so?” asked Pony. “Yes, it is always a bit different when there is a woman in the house!”

“In the courtyard,” corrected Gerold.

“How are things in Schumann Street?” asked Emil.

“All right, thanks. And a special message from Grandmother. You’d better come soon, or as a punishment you’ll have to eat fish every day.”

“Oh, the dickens,” murmured Emil and made a face.

“Why, the dickens?” Mittenzwey the younger wanted to know. “Fish is good.” Everybody looked at him with amazement, as it was his habit never to say a word. At that his face got fiery red, and he hid himself behind his big brother.

“Emil can’t eat a bite of fish. If he tries it he has to leave the room,” Pony Hütchen explained.

So they chatted and were all in a very good humor. The boys were especially polite. The Professor held Pony’s wheel. Krummbiegel went to wash out the thermos bottle and the cup. Mittenzwey, senior, folded up the lunch paper very carefully. Emil fastened the basket back on the handlebars. Gerold tested the tires to see if there was enough air in them. And Pony Hütchen hopped around the courtyard, sang a song to herself, and told them all sorts of things meanwhile.

“Wait!” she cried suddenly and halted on one foot. “I have to ask you something. Why are there so frightfully many children out on Nollendorf Place? It looks like a vacation camp.”

“They are inquisitive. They have heard about our criminal hunt. And now they want to be in on it,” explained the Professor.

Just then Gustav came running toward the gate, honked loudly, and shouted, “Quick! He’s coming!” Everybody tried to get out at once.

“Attention: listen,” shouted the Professor. “We’ll surround him on all sides. Children behind him, children before him, children, left and right! Is that clear? Further orders we’ll give as we go. March out!”

They leaped, ran, and stumbled out of the gate. Pony Hütchen alone stayed behind, feeling a little bit offended. But then she swung herself onto her tiny nickel wheel, muttering like her own grandmother, “I don’t like the looks of this! I don’t like the looks of this,” and followed after the boys.

The man in the stiff hat came to the hotel door, walked slowly down the steps, and turned right toward Kleist Street. The Professor, Emil, and Gustav hurried their messengers here and there among the various groups of children. And three minutes later Herr Grundeis was surrounded.

He looked about on all sides, utterly bewildered. The youngsters were talking, laughing, jostling each other, and keeping step with him. Many of them stared at the man until he became embarrassed and looked straight ahead again.

Ssst! a ball flew right by his head. He jumped and quickened his pace. But immediately the children walked just as much faster. He tried to turn off suddenly into a side street. But another troop of youngsters came streaming after him.

“Man, he has a face, as if he wanted to sneeze,” called Gustav.

“Run a little ahead of me,” advised Emil. “He ought not to recognize me yet. He’ll be up against that soon enough.”

Gustav threw back his shoulders and strode before Emil like a boxer who is so muscle-bound he can hardly move. Pony Hütchen rode alongside the procession and tinkled her bell happily.

The man in the stiff hat was noticeably nervous. He had a dark foreboding of what was coming to him, and he strode along with giant steps. But it was of no use. He could not escape his enemies.

Suddenly he stopped stock still, as if nailed to the spot, turned around, and ran back down the street he had just come up. The assembled children turned too, and the order of march was continued in the opposite direction.

Then a small boy—it was Krummbiegel—ran across in front of the man so that he stumbled.

“What’s the matter with you, you young jackanapes?” he shouted, “I am going to call the police at once.”

“Oh, yeh, please do!” jeered Krummbiegel. “We’ve been waiting for that a long time. Just call them up!”

Herr Grundeis had no idea of calling them—quite the contrary. The situation was growing more uncomfortable for him every minute. He began to have unmistakable fears, and he did not know which way to turn. Already people were looking out of all the windows. Already the shopgirls were running out in front of the shops with their customers and asking what was happening. If a policeman should come now it would be all up with him.

Then the thief had an inspiration. He noticed a branch of the Commercial and Private Bank. He broke through the chain of children, hurried up to the door, and disappeared.

The Professor sprang to the door and yelled, “Gustav and I follow him. Emil stays here, meanwhile. When Gustav honks things can start. Then Emil comes in with ten boys. Hunt for the right ones, meanwhile, Emil. It’s going to be a ticklish business.”

Then Gustav and the Professor vanished through the door.

Emil’s ears drummed with his heartbeats. Now the affair must be settled. He called Krummbiegel, Gerold, the Mittenzwey brothers, and a few others, and ordered that the rest should scatter.

The children retreated a few steps from the bank building, but not far. They would not miss on any account what was about to happen.

Pony Hütchen asked a boy to hold her wheel and stepped up to Emil.

“Here I am,” she said. “Head high. It’s getting serious now. Goodness, I’m as nervous as a witch!”

“Do you think perhaps I’m not?” queried Emil.

Fourteenth Chapter

Pins Have Their Good Points Too

When Gustav and the Professor entered the bank the man in the stiff hat was already standing at a cage on which was a sign, “Paying and Receiving Teller.” He was waiting impatiently for his turn to come. The bank clerk was telephoning.

The Professor took up his stand near the thief and watched like a hunting dog. Gustav stood behind the man and had his hand in his pocket all ready to honk his horn.

Then the cashier came to the window and asked the Professor what he wanted.

“Thank you,” he said, “this gentleman was here before me.”

“What do you wish?” the cashier asked Herr Grundeis.

“Will you please change a hundred-mark note for two fifties and give me forty marks silver?” asked the latter as he reached into his pocket and laid a hundred-mark note and two twenties on the counter.

The cashier took the three notes and turned with them to his cash drawer.

“One moment!” cried the Professor loudly. “That money is stolen!”

“Whaaat?” asked the bank clerk, astonished, and turned about. His colleagues who occupied other offices, working at their mental arithmetic, stopped working and poked up their heads as if a snake had bitten them.

“That money does not belong to that man at all. He stole it from a friend of mine, and now he wants to change it so that no one can prove it,” declared the Professor.

“Such impudence I’ve never met in all my whole life,” said Herr Grundeis. Then he turned back to the cashier: “Pardon me!” and gave the Professor a ringing box on the ear.

“That will not change the affair in the least,” declared the Professor, as he gave Grundeis in return such a sound punch that the man had to hang on to the counter. And now Gustav honked three times frightfully loud. The bank clerks all jumped up, consumed with curiosity, and ran to the cashier’s cage. The vice president, head of the deposit department, came storming out of his office.

And—through the door came ten boys on the run, Emil in the lead, and surrounded the man with the stiff hat.

“What in thunderation is the matter with the young imps?” cried the vice president.

“The young imps think that I stole from one of them the money that I just gave to your cashier to change for me,” answered Herr Grundeis, and trembled with rage.

“That’s just what it is!” called Emil, and sprang up to the cage. “A hundred-mark note and two twenty-mark notes he stole from me. Yesterday afternoon. On the train from Neustadt to Berlin. While I was asleep!”

“Can you prove that?” asked the cashier sternly.

“I have been in Berlin for a week, and yesterday was in the city from morning till night,” said the thief, and laughed politely.

“What a dirty lie!” shouted Emil, and almost wept with rage.

“Can you prove that this is the man who sat with you in the train?” asked the vice president.

“Of course he can’t do that,” said the thief carelessly.

“Because if you say you were alone with him on the train, then you have no witnesses,” remarked one of the onlookers. And Emil’s comrades looked worried.

“No!” cried Emil. “No, I have too a witness. It’s Frau Jakob from Gross-Grünau. She sat in the compartment at first and got out later. And she told me to take her very best regards to Herr Kurzhals in Neustadt.”

“It looks as though you’d have to produce an alibi,” said the head of the deposit department to the thief. “Can you do that?”

“Naturally,” he declared. “I live over at the Hôtel Kreid—”

“But only since last night,” cried Gustav. “I got myself in there as elevator boy and I know, man!”

The bank clerks smiled at that and began to be more interested in the boys.

“For the present we had best keep the money here, Herr—” said the vice president, and tore off a memorandum slip on which to write his name and address.

“Grundeis is his name!” called Emil.

The man in the stiff hat laughed out loud and said, “There, you see there must be a mistake. My name is Müller.”

“Oh, how well he lies! He told me in the train that his name was Grundeis,” cried Emil, furious.

“Have you identification papers?” asked the cashier.

“Unfortunately, not with me,” answered the thief. “But if you will just wait a minute I’ll bring them over from the hotel.”

“The fellow is just lying. And it is my money. And I must have it back,” cried Emil.

“But even if that’s true, my boy,” explained the cashier, “it isn’t as simple as all that. How can you prove that the money is yours? Is your name on it, perhaps? Or did you write down the numbers on the notes?”

“Of course not,” said Emil. “Who thinks that he’s going to be robbed? But, anyway, it is my money, do you hear? And my mother gave it to me for my grandmother, who lives here at 15 Schumann Street.”

“Was there a corner torn on one of the notes, or something else that wasn’t just as usual?”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Really, my good sirs, I declare, on my honor, the money is mine. I wouldn’t rob small children, would I?” asked the thief.

“Wait!” shouted Emil, and suddenly he was so happy that he jumped for joy. “Wait! In the train I fastened the notes into my coat with a pin. So there must be pinholes in the notes.”

The cashier held the notes up to the light. The others held their breath.

The thief took a step back. The vice president drummed nervously on the counter.

“The boy is right,” cried the cashier, pale with excitement. “There are actually pinholes in the notes.”

“And here is the pin, besides,” said Emil, and laid the pin proudly on the counter. “I pricked myself, too.”

At that the thief turned like lightning, shoved the children right and left so that they fell over each other, ran across the room, tore open the door, and was off.

“After him!” shouted the vice president.

Everybody ran for the door.

When they got to the street they found the thief already hemmed in by at least twenty small boys. They held onto his legs. They hung on his arms. They pulled at his coat. He thrashed around as if he were crazy, but the children did not loosen their hold.

And then came a policeman on the run, whom Pony Hütchen had brought with her little wheel. And the vice president asked him earnestly to arrest the man that was named Grundeis as well as Müller, as apparently he was a train thief.

The cashier asked for time off, took the money and the pin, and went with them. Well, it was a funny procession. The policeman, the bank clerk, the thief in the middle, and after them ninety or a hundred children! So they streamed to the station house.

Pony Hütchen rode near by on her little nickel-plated wheel, waved to the elated Emil, and called, “Emil, my boy! I’ll hurry home and tell them the whole story.”

The boy nodded back and said, “I’ll be home for lunch! Give them my love!”

Pony called again, “Do you know what you look like? Like a big school picnic!” Then she curved around the corner, ringing loudly.

Fifteenth Chapter

Emil Visits Police Headquarters

The procession marched to the nearest police station. The policeman informed a captain what had happened. Emil filled in the report. Then he had to tell them when and where he was born, who he was, and where he lived. And the captain wrote it all down. In ink.

“And what is your name?” he asked the thief.

“Herbert Kiessling,” answered the rascal.

That made the boys—Emil, Gustav, and the Professor—laugh out loud. And the bank clerk, who had given over the hundred and forty marks to the captain, joined in with them.

“Man, what a turnip!” cried Gustav. “First he is Grundeis. Then he is Müller. Now he is Kiessling. Now I am just crazy to know who he really is!”

“Silence!” growled the captain. “We’ll find that out too.”

Herr Grundeis, Müller, Kiessling, gave his temporary address as the Hôtel Kreid. Then he gave the date of his birth and his home. Identification papers he had none.

“And where were you until yesterday?” questioned the captain.

“In Gross-Grünau,” declared the thief.

“That is certainly lying again,” called the Professor.

“Silence!” growled the captain. “We’ll find that out too.”

The bank clerk wondered whether he might leave. Then information about him was noted down. He patted Emil kindly on the shoulder and departed.

“Did you yesterday afternoon steal a hundred and forty marks from the schoolboy, Emil Tischbein, on the train coming from Neustadt to Berlin, Kiessling?” questioned the captain.

“Yes,” said the thief gloomily. “I don’t know how—it happened very suddenly. The boy was sleeping in the corner. And then the envelope fell out. And then I picked it up and just wanted to look to see what was inside. And as I had absolutely no money at the time—”

“What a swindler,” cried Emil. “I had the money pinned tight in my jacket pocket. It could not have fallen out.”

“And he wasn’t in such great need of it either, or he wouldn’t have had Emil’s money untouched in his pocket. Meanwhile he had to pay for taxi, boiled eggs, and beer,” remarked the Professor.

“Silence!” growled the captain. “We’ll find that out too.”

And he wrote down everything that was told.

“Could you let me go now, officer?” asked the thief, and squinted out of very politeness. “I’ve admitted the theft. And you know where I live. I have business in Berlin and would like to ’tend to a few errands.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” said the captain sternly, and called the police headquarters to have them send the patrol over, because a railway thief had been arrested in his district.

“When do I get my money?” inquired Emil anxiously.

“At police headquarters,” said the captain. “You will go right there, and there everything will be arranged.”

“Emil, man!” whispered Gustav, “now you’ll have to go to ‘Alex’[2] in the Black Maria.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” said the captain. “Have you any money, Tischbein?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Emil. “The boys took up a collection yesterday. And the porter of Hôtel Kreid lent me ten marks.”

“Genuine detectives! Confounded rascals!” scowled the captain. But the scolding sounded very good-natured. “Well, then, Tischbein, you take the subway to Alexander Place and announce yourself to Criminal Sergeant Lurje. Anything further you will soon find out. And you’ll get your money back there.”

“Could I first take the ten marks back to the porter?” Emil wanted to know.

“Of course.”

In a few minutes the police van came. And Herr Grundeis Müller Kiessling had to climb in. The captain gave the policeman seated inside the written report and the hundred and forty marks. Also the pin. And then the Black Maria rumbled off. The boys who stood in the street jeered at the thief. But he paid no attention. Probably because he was too proud of having the privilege of riding in a private car.

Emil shook hands with the captain and thanked him.

Then the Professor informed the children who had waited before the station that Emil would get his money at “Alex,” and the chase was over. The children streamed off home in great crowds. Only the intimate friends took Emil to the hotel and to the Nollendorf subway station. And he told them to telephone little Dienstag at noon. So he would know how everything had come out. And he hoped very much to see them again before he went back to Neustadt. And he thanked them all from the bottom of his heart for their help. And they’d get their money back too.

“If you dare to give our money back you’ll get it in the neck, man!” cried Gustav. “And, besides, we have to fight—on account of your funny suit.”

“Oh, man!” said Emil, and grabbed Gustav and the Professor by the hand. “I feel so good. We’d better let the fight go. It would break my heart to knock you down for the count.”

“You wouldn’t succeed in that, even if you were in a bad humor, you fathead!” cried Gustav.

And then the three went to Alexander Place to police headquarters, and they had to go through many corridors and past countless rooms. And at last they found Criminal Sergeant Lurje. He was just eating breakfast. Emil introduced himself.

“Aha,” said Herr Lurje and chewed busily. “Emil Stuhlbein, our youthful amateur detective. Already announced by telephone. The commissioner awaits you. He wants to talk to you. Come with me now.”

“Tischbein is my name,” corrected Emil.

“Six of one and half a dozen of the other,” said Herr Lurje, and took another bite of roll.

“We’ll wait here for you,” the Professor decided. And Gustav called after Emil, “Make it snappy. When I see anybody chewing I always get hungry myself.”

Herr Lurje walked through more halls, left, right, left again. Then he knocked on a door. A voice called, “Come in!” Lurje opened the door a crack and said, chewing, “The little detective is here, Commissioner, Emil Fischbein. You know.”

“Tischbein is my name,” Emil explained emphatically.

“Fine name too,” said Herr Lurje, and gave Emil a shove so that he tumbled into the room.

The commissioner was a very nice man. Emil had to be seated in a comfortable armchair and tell the whole story, every bit, from the beginning. At the end the commissioner said solemnly, “So, and now you’ll get your money back.”

“Praises be!” Emil took a long breath and put his money away. And most carefully.

“But don’t let it be stolen again!”

“No! Impossible! I’ll take it right to Grandmother.”

“Right! I had almost forgotten. You must give me your Berlin address. Are you staying a few days?”

“I’d like to,” said Emil. “I live at 15 Schumann Street with the Heimbolds. That’s my uncle’s name. My aunt’s, too.”

“It’s wonderful how you children did it,” commented the commissioner as he stuck a big cigar into his mouth.

“The fellows worked wonderfully, that’s true,” cried Emil excitedly. “This Gustav with his horn, and the Professor, and little Dienstag, and Krummbiegel, and the Mittenzwey brothers—all of them, in fact. It was a pleasure to work with them. Especially the Professor. He is an ace!”

“Well, yes, you yourself are not exactly made of mush,” remarked the man as he puffed out a cloud.

“What I’d like to ask, Herr Commissioner, what will they do to Grundeis, or whatever my thief is called?”

“We have taken him to the Identification Bureau. There he will be photographed. And his fingerprints taken. And after that we will compare the picture and the fingerprints with the photographs in our Rogues’ Gallery.”

“What is that?”

“There we have pictures of all the convicted criminals. And there we have the fingerprints, footprints, and such of the criminals that we haven’t caught yet but that we are hunting. It might be possible that the man who stole from you had committed other thefts and burglaries before he helped himself to your money. Isn’t that true?”

“That’s so. I hadn’t thought of that at all!”

“Just a moment,” said the nice commissioner as the telephone rang. “Yes, indeed ... something interesting for you ... come right up to my room,” he spoke into the transmitter. Then he hung up and said, “Now a few men from the papers will be along to interview you.”

“What is that?” asked Emil.

“Interviewing means asking questions.”

“It can’t be!” cried Emil. “Will I be in the paper, then?”

“Apparently,” said the commissioner. “When a schoolboy catches a thief he becomes famous.”

There came a knock, and four men walked into the room. The commissioner shook hands with them and told them briefly about Emil’s experience. The four men busily wrote it down.

“Wonderful,” said one of the reporters at the end. “The country boy as detective.”

“Perhaps you’ll engage him for a plain-clothes man,” advised another laughing.

“Why didn’t you go right to a policeman and tell him all about it?” asked a third.

Emil was embarrassed. He thought of Policeman Jeschke in Neustadt and of his dream. And his throat felt very dry.

“Well?” queried the commissioner.

Emil shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, all right! Because in Neustadt I had painted a red nose and a big mustache on the monument of the Grand Duke Karl. Please, arrest me, Herr Commissioner!”

Then the five men laughed instead of drawing long faces. And the commissioner cried, “But, Emil, we couldn’t afford to put our best detective in jail.”

“No? Truly? Oh, I am glad of that,” said the boy, much relieved. Then he turned to one of the reporters and asked, “Don’t you know me?”

“No,” said the man.

“You paid for my ticket yesterday on Line 177 because I didn’t have any money.”

“Sure enough,” exclaimed the man. “Now I remember. You wanted to know my address so that you could send back my groschen.”

“Will you take it now?” asked Emil, and took ten pfennigs out of his trousers pocket.

“But, nonsense,” answered the man. “You had even introduced yourself.”

“Surely, I often do,” explained the boy. “Emil Tischbein is my name.”

“My name is Kästner,” said the journalist, and they shook hands.

“Splendid,” cried the commissioner. “Old acquaintances.”

“And now, Emil,” said Herr Kästner, “will you come with me for a bit to the editor’s office? First we’ll go somewhere and have cake with whipped cream.”

“Couldn’t I invite you?” asked Emil.

“What a proud rascal!” The men were very much amused.

“No, you must let me pay,” said Herr Kästner.

“I’d like to,” answered Emil, “but the Professor and Gustav are waiting outside for me.”

“Of course, we’ll take them with us,” declared Herr Kästner.

The other journalists still had all kinds of questions to ask. Emil gave them an exact statement. And they took notes again.

“Is the thief really a new one?” asked one of the men.

“I think not,” answered the commissioner. “Perhaps we are due for a great surprise. Call me up anyway in an hour, gentlemen, all of you.”

Then they all departed. And Emil went with Herr Kästner back to Criminal Sergeant Lurje. He was still chewing and said, “Aha, the little Überbein!”

“Tischbein,” said Emil.

Then Herr Kästner took a taxi for Emil, Gustav, and the Professor, and they went first to a pastry shop. On the way Gustav honked. And they were delighted when Herr Kästner jumped. In the pastry shop the boys were very jolly. They ate cherry tart with much whipped cream and told whatever occurred to them.

They told about the council of war in Nikolsburger Place, about the taxi chase, about the night in the hotel, about Gustav as the bell boy, about the excitement in the bank. And at the end Herr Kästner said, “You are certainly three wonderful boys.”

At that they were very proud of themselves, and each ate another piece of cake.

After that Gustav and the Professor climbed into a motor bus. Emil reminded them to call up little Dienstag in the afternoon, and then he went with Herr Kästner to the newspaper office.

The newspaper building was huge. It was almost as big as the police headquarters at Alexander Place. And in the corridors there was such a rushing and bustling that you might think there was an obstacle race going on.

They came to a room in which a pretty blonde lady was sitting. And Herr Kästner walked up and down and dictated to the lady for her typewriter everything that Emil had told him. Every once in a while he would stop and ask Emil, “Is that right?” And when Emil nodded Herr Kästner would start dictating again.

Then he called up the police commissioner.

“What’s that you say?” cried Kästner. “Well, if that isn’t absurd.... I mustn’t tell him anything about it yet? Soooo, that too? Well, I _am_ glad.... Thank you very much! That will be a real scoop.”

He hung up, looked at the boy as if he had never seen him before, and said, “Emil, come with me quick! We must have your picture taken.”

“Good gracious!” said Emil, astonished. However, he submitted to everything, went up three stories higher with Herr Kästner, and entered a very bright room with many windows. First he combed his hair, and then he had his picture taken.

Finally Herr Kästner took him into the composing room—there was a clatter, like that of a thousand typewriters—Herr Kästner gave a man the sheets that the lovely blonde lady had typed and said that he’d be right back up because the stuff was very important, but first he had to send the youngster back to his grandmother.

Then they took the elevator to the ground floor and walked out to the entrance. Herr Kästner beckoned to a taxi, seated Emil, gave money to the chauffeur, although the boy did not want him to, and said, “Take my young friend to Number 15 Schumann Street.”

They shook hands heartily. And Herr Kästner added, “My compliments to your mother when you get home. She must be a very dear woman.”

“Indeed she is,” said Emil.

“One thing more,” called Herr Kästner as the car started off, “read the paper this afternoon. You’ll be surprised, young man.”

Emil turned and waved. And Herr Kästner waved back.

And then the taxi swung round a corner.

Sixteenth Chapter

The Police Commissioner Sends His Regards

The automobile had already reached Unter den Linden. Emil knocked three times on the window back of the driver. The car stopped. And the boy asked, “Are we almost there?”

“Sure,” said the man.

“I’m sorry to make you trouble,” said Emil, “but first I must go to Kaiser Avenue. To the Café Josty. There is a bouquet for my grandmother there. And my suitcase, too. Would you please be so kind?”

“What do you mean—kind? Have you some money in case what I’ve had isn’t enough?”

“I have money, Driver. And I must have the flowers.”

“All right,” said the man, turned left, went through the Brandenburger Gate and down the green, shady Zoölogical Gardens to Nollendorf Place. That place seemed to Emil much more harmless and friendly now that everything had turned out all right. But, anyway, he reached carefully into his inside breast pocket. The money was there.

Then they went up Motz Street to the very end, turned right, and stopped before the Café Josty.

Emil climbed out, betook himself to the counter, asked the maid to please give him his bag and his flowers, got them, thanked her, climbed up into the car again, and said, “There, Driver, now to Grandmother.”

They turned around, traveled the long way back, over the river Spree, through old streets with gray houses.

The boy would have liked to observe the neighborhood. But his things seemed bewitched. The suitcase kept toppling over. And if the suitcase stood still for a minute, then the wind seized the white paper around the flowers so that it rustled and tore. And Emil had to watch out to keep the bouquet from flying away.

At last the driver put on the brakes. The car stopped. It was Number 15 Schumann Street.

“Well, here we are,” said Emil and got out.

“Do you want any more money from me?”

“No, instead you get back thirty pfennigs.”

“Zat so?” said Emil. “Get yourself a few cigars with it.”

“I chew, my boy,” said the driver, and went off.

Then Emil climbed to the third floor and rang the bell at the Heimbolds’ door. There was a great cry behind the door. Then it was opened. And there stood the grandmother. She grabbed Emil by the collar, gave him a kiss on the left cheek and a clap on the right cheek at the same time, dragged him into the room by his hair, and cried, “Oh, you young rascal, oh, you young rascal!”

“Fine stories we hear about you,” Aunt Martha said smiling, as she gave him her hand. And Pony Hütchen offered him her elbows. She was wearing one of her mother’s aprons and she squeaked, “Careful, my hands are wet. I’m washing dishes—we poor women!”

Then they all went together into the living room. Emil had to take the place of honor on the sofa. And his grandmother and Aunt Martha beamed upon him as if he were a very valuable painting of Titian’s.

“Have you the loot?” asked Pony.

“Of course,” said Emil, took the three notes out of his pocket, gave one hundred and twenty marks to his grandmother, and said, “Here, Grandmother, here is the money. And Mother sends her best love. And you mustn’t blame her because she hasn’t sent you anything these last months. Business wasn’t so very good. And so this time she’s sending you more than usual.”

“Thank you, my dear,” answered the old woman, gave back a twenty-mark note and said, “That is for you because you are such a fine detective.”

“No, I can’t take it. You see I still have twenty marks from Mother in my pocket.”

“Emil, a boy must obey his grandmother. Put it in your pocket at once.”

“No, I shan’t take it.”

“What a boy!” cried Pony. “Nobody’d have to ask me twice!”

“Oh, no, I don’t want it.”

“Either you take it or I’ll get the rheumatism, I’ll be so angry,” declared the grandmother.

“Quick, put the money away,” said Aunt Martha, and poked the note into his pocket.

“Well, if you really want me to,” stammered Emil. “I thank you, Grandmother.”

“I am the one to be thankful,” she answered, and smoothed back Emil’s hair.

Then Emil handed over his bouquet of flowers. Pony brought a vase. But when the flowers were unwrapped they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Just dried vegetables!” said Pony Hütchen.

“They’ve had no water since yesterday afternoon,” explained Emil ruefully. “It’s no wonder. When Mother and I bought them yesterday at Stamnitzen’s they were perfectly fresh.”

“I’m sure they were, I’m sure they were,” said the grandmother as she put the wilted flowers in water.

“Perhaps they’ll freshen up,” comforted Aunt Martha. “There, and now we will have dinner. Your uncle won’t be home until evening. Pony, set the table!”

“All right,” said the little girl.

“Emil, what are we going to have?”

“No idea.”

“What do you like best?”

“Macaroni with ham.”

“Well, then, you know what we are going to have.”

It is true that Emil had eaten macaroni with ham just the day before. But in the first place one can stand eating his favorite dish almost every day. And in the second place, it seemed to Emil as if at least a whole week had gone by since yesterday’s dinner with his mother in Neustadt. And he dug into the macaroni as if he were Herr Grundeis Müller Kiessling himself.

After the meal Emil and Pony ran down into the street for a while, as the boy wanted to try Pony’s little nickel-plated wheel. Grandmother lay down on the sofa. And Aunt Martha baked an applecake. Her applecakes were famous in the whole family.

Emil rolled through Schumann Street. And Pony ran after him, holding fast to the saddle. She maintained she had to, or her cousin would fly away. Then Emil had to get off, and she turned circles and threes and eights for him.

Suddenly a policeman appeared who carried a portfolio and inquired, “Children, do the Heimbolds live here in Number 15?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Pony. “We’re Heimbolds. One minute, Officer.” She shut her wheel in the cellar.

“Is there something wrong?” wondered Emil. He couldn’t help thinking of that plagued Jeschke.

“Quite the contrary. Are you the boy Emil Tischbein?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Um, well, you can congratulate yourself!”

“Who has a birthday?” asked Pony, returning.

But the policeman told them nothing. Instead he climbed up the stairs. Aunt Martha led him into the living room. The grandmother woke and got up, filled with curiosity. Emil and Pony stood by the table, much excited.

“It’s this way,” said the policeman as he opened the portfolio. “The thief that the schoolboy Emil Tischbein helped to catch early this morning has been identified as a bank robber from Hanover who has been wanted for four weeks. This thief had stolen a great deal of money. And our identification bureau have given him over for trial.

“Besides that, he has made a confession. They got back most of the money, which was sewed in the lining of his clothes. Nothing but thousand-mark notes.”

“Holy cats!” said Pony Hütchen.

“The bank,” continued the officer, “has been offering a reward for the last two weeks to anyone who could trace the man.

“And as you,” he turned to Emil, “have caught the man, you get the reward. The police commissioner sends his regards and is happy to know that your ability can be rewarded in this way.”

Emil made a bow.

Then the officer took a bundle of notes from his portfolio and counted them out on the table. Aunt Martha, who was watching closely, whispered, “A thousand marks!”

“Good gracious!” cried Pony. “I give up.”

Grandmother signed a receipt. Then the policeman left. But before he went Aunt Martha gave him a big glass of cherry brandy out of Uncle’s cupboard.

Emil sat down beside his grandmother and could not say a word. The old woman put her arm around him and said, shaking her head, “It is just unbelievable! It is just unbelievable!”

Pony Hütchen jumped upon a chair, started to beat time as if she were leading a chorus, and sang, “Now we’ll invite, now we’ll invite, all the other boys for a party.”

“Yes,” said Emil, “that’s all right. But first of all—probably now—what do you think?—Mother could come to Berlin too....”

Seventeenth Chapter

Frau Tischbein Is All Excited

The next morning Frau Wirth rang the door bell of Frau Tischbein’s home in Neustadt.

“Morning, Frau Tischbein,” she said. “How are you?”

“Good-morning, Frau Wirth. I’m so worried. My boy hasn’t sent me a word. Every time the bell rings I think it is the postman. Shall I do your hair?”

“No, I only came over to bring you some news.”

“Please....”

“Greetings from Emil and—”

“For heaven’s sake, what happened to him? Where is he? What do you know?” cried Frau Tischbein. She was frightfully excited and held up both her hands in anxiety.

“But he’s all right, my dear, very much all right. He has caught a thief. Think of that! And the police have presented him with a reward of a thousand marks. What do you say to that? Hm? And now you must take the noon train for Berlin.”

“But how do you know all that?”

“Your sister Frau Heimbold just called me up from Berlin in the store. Emil said a few words too. And you must go right up there. As long as you have so much money that is the thing to do.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” murmured Frau Tischbein distractedly. “Thousand marks? Because he caught a thief? How did he ever get that idea? He makes nothing but blunders!”

“But this one rewarded him. A thousand marks is a lot of money!”

“Oh, go on with your thousand marks!”

“Oh, well, it might be worse. So you are going?”

“Naturally, I won’t have a minute’s peace until I’ve seen that boy.”

“Good luck to you, then, and a pleasant journey!”

“Thank you, Frau Wirth,” said the hairdresser, shaking her head, as she closed the door.

But when that afternoon she was seated in the train for Berlin she had another and a greater surprise. Opposite her a man was reading the paper.

Frau Tischbein’s gaze flickered restlessly from one corner to the other. She counted the telegraph posts that marched past the window and would have liked to run behind the train to help push it. Time dragged so.

While she was shifting around, turning her head this way and that, she happened to glance at the paper across from her.

“Good heavens!” she cried, and snatched the paper from the man who was reading it. He thought the woman had suddenly gone mad, and was almost frightened.