Chapter IV: Part 4

“There, there!” she stammered. “That—that is my boy!” And she pointed with her finger at a photograph on the front page of the paper.

“You don’t mean it?” said the man cheerfully. “You are the mother of Emil Tischbein? That’s a great youngster. Hats off to you, Frau Tischbein!”

“Yes, yes,” said the hairdresser. “Just keep your hat on, sir!” And then she began to read the article. Over it in giant letters was the caption:

A SMALL BOY AS DETECTIVE

HUNDREDS OF BERLIN CHILDREN CHASE A CRIMINAL

And following that came a fully detailed story of Emil’s experiences from the Neustadt railway station to police headquarters in Berlin. Frau Tischbein was pale with excitement. And the paper rustled as if the wind were blowing, yet the windows were all shut tight The man hardly could wait for her to finish the article. But it was very long—it filled almost the whole front page. And in the midst of it was Emil’s picture.

Finally she laid the paper aside, looked over at the man, and said, “Such performances, the minute he’s left to himself! And I warned him so carefully to look after that hundred and forty marks. How could he have been so careless? As if he didn’t know that we had no money to be stolen.”

“Probably he was tired out. Perhaps, even, the thief hypnotized him. That is supposed to happen,” the man suggested. “But don’t you think it wonderful the way the youngsters carried on the affair? That was pure genius. It was simply remarkable—simply remarkable!”

“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Frau Tischbein, some, what mollified. “He is a clever boy, my son. Always the best in his class, and always industrious. But imagine if anything had happened to him! My hair is standing on end, even though it’s all over. No, I never can let him travel alone again. I’d die of worry.”

“Does he look like his picture?” asked the man.

Frau Tischbein examined the picture again and said, “Yes, it’s a good picture. Do you think he’s nice-looking?”

“Indeed, yes!” cried the man. “Such an upstanding boy, you can expect great things from him later on.”

“He should have held himself up a little straighter,” fretted his mother. “His coat is full of wrinkles. He is always supposed to unbutton it before he sits down. But he never listens!”

“Well, if he has no bigger faults than that ...” laughed the man.

“No, he hasn’t any faults, really, my Emil,” said his mother, as she blew her nose in an excess of emotion.

Then the man got off. She must keep his paper, and she read Emil’s experiences again and again to Friedrich Strasse in Berlin. Eleven times altogether.

When they arrived in Berlin, there was Emil on the platform. In honor of his mother he had put on his best suit, and as he threw his arms around her neck he asked, “Now, what do you say to me?”

“Don’t be so conceited, you monkey!”

“Well, Frau Tischbein,” he said as he hooked himself on to her arm, “I certainly am tremendously glad you came.”

“I see your suit hasn’t been improved by your thief chasing,” observed his mother, but she didn’t sound very cross.

“If you want me to, I can get a new suit.”

“From whom, then?”

“Oh, a clothing store wants to give me and the Professor and Gustav new suits. And then they’ll announce in the paper that we detectives buy our clothes only from them. That is advertising, you understand!”

“Yes, I understand!”

“But we are probably going to refuse,” Emil continued taking big steps, “although we can each get a new football, instead. You know, we think the fuss they are making over us is good and silly. The grown-ups can do that sort of thing, as far as we are concerned. They are funny and can’t help it. But children ought to cut it out.”

“Bravo!” said his mother.

“Uncle Heimbold locked up the money. A thousand marks! Isn’t that great? First of all, we’ll buy you an electric hair-drying machine. And then a winter coat lined with fur. And for me? I must think it over. Perhaps a new football, after all. Or maybe a camera. I’ll see.”

“I thought we’d better save the money and put it in the bank. Later on you can tell better what to do with it.”

“No, you get the drying machine and the warm coat. What’s left over we can put away, if you want to.”

“We’ll talk it over again,” said his mother, and squeezed his arm.

“Do you know that my picture’s been in all the papers? And long stories about me?”

“I read one of them in the train. At first I was worried about you. Are you sure nothing happened to you?”

“Not a thing. It was wonderful. I’ll tell you all about it. But first you must meet my friends.”

“Where are they, then?”

“In Schumann Street. At Aunt Martha’s. She made applecake yesterday. And then we invited the whole crowd. They’re up at the house now, making a racket.”

Sure enough, there were great goings on at the Heimbolds’. They were all there: Gustav, the Professor, Krummbiegel, the Mittenzwey brothers, Gerold, Friedrich the First, Traugott, the little Dienstag, and all the others. There were hardly enough chairs to go around.

Pony Hütchen ran from one to the next, pouring out hot chocolate from a huge pot. And Aunt Martha’s applecake was a poem. Grandmother sat on the sofa, laughing and seeming ten years younger.

When Emil came in with his mother there was a great welcome. Every boy shook hands with her. And she thanked them all for helping her Emil so much.

“And now,” interrupted Emil, “the new suits and the footballs, we won’t take them. We won’t lend ourselves to any advertising scheme. Are we agreed?”

“Agreed,” shouted Gustav, and honked his horn so that Aunt Martha’s flowerpots rattled.

Then Grandmother rapped with her spoon on her gold cup, stood up, and announced, “Now, you all listen to me, you young scouts. I’m going to make a speech. But don’t begin to imagine things. I am not going to praise you. The others have just about made you silly. I’m not going to do that too. I’m not going to do that too.”

The boys had all become very still and did not even dare to keep on chewing.

“Chasing after a thief,” went on the grandmother, “and surrounding him with a hundred children—no, that isn’t a great performance. No offense meant, my friends. But there is one among you who would have liked to tiptoe after Herr Grundeis. He would have loved to spy around as the green bell boy in the hotel. But he stayed at home because he had agreed to—because he had agreed to.”

Everybody looked at little Dienstag. He was blushing beet red and was very much embarrassed.

“Quite right. I mean little Dienstag. Quite right,” said the grandmother. “He sat there for two days at the telephone. He knew where his duty lay. And he did it, even though he didn’t like it. That was very fine, you understand? That was very fine. You can all take an example from him. And now we’ll stand up and cheer: ‘Hurrah for little Dienstag!’”

The boys all jumped up. Pony Hütchen held her hands like a trumpet before her mouth. Aunt Martha and Emil’s mother came in from the kitchen. And they all shouted, “Three cheers for little Dienstag!”

Then they all sat down again. And little Dienstag took a deep breath and gulped. “Thank you very much. But that’s too much. You would have done it too. Any boy does what he has to. Enough! That’s all.”

Pony Hütchen held up the big chocolate pot and cried, “Who wants anything more to drink, you fellows? Now we’ll drink to Emil!”

Eighteenth Chapter

Can Anything Be Learned from It All?

Late in the afternoon the boys departed. And Emil had to promise solemnly to go to the Professor’s with Pony Hütchen the very next afternoon. Then Uncle Heimbold came in, and they had supper. After which he gave the thousand marks to his sister-in-law, Frau Tischbein, and advised her to put the money in the bank.

“That was just my intention,” said the hairdresser.

“No,” objected Emil, “that wouldn’t be any fun for me. Mother must buy an electric drying machine and a new coat that’s lined with fur. I don’t know what you’re thinking about. That money belongs to me. Can I do what I want with it or not?”

“That you certainly cannot,” declared Uncle Heimbold. “You are only a child. And the decision as to what is to be done with the money rests with your mother.”

Emil got up from the table and went over to the window.

“Good gracious, Heimbold, you are a blockhead!” said Pony Hütchen to her father. “Can’t you see that Emil was glad that he could give something to his mother? You grown-ups are dumb.”

“Of course, she’ll get the drying machine and the coat,” soothed the grandmother. “But what’s left over can be put in the bank, can’t it, my boy?”

“Of course,” agreed Emil. “Do you say so too, Mummy?”

“If you want it that way, you young millionaire.”

“We’ll go shopping early to-morrow,” cried Emil. “Pony, you can come with us.”

“Did you think, perhaps, that I’d be catching flies in the meantime?” laughed Pony. “But you must buy something for yourself, too. Of course, Aunt Tischbein must get her drying machine, but you must buy yourself a bicycle, so that you won’t have to ride your cousin’s bicycle to pieces.”

“Emil,” inquired his mother anxiously, “have you broken your cousin’s wheel?”

“Of course not, Mother, I only raised the handlebars a little bit higher. She always goes around bent way over like a monkey so she’ll look like a racer.”

“Monkey yourself!” cried Pony. “If you change my wheel again everything’s off between us, you understand?”

“If you weren’t a girl and thin as a stick besides I’d teach you a few things, my child. Anyway, I won’t bother myself about it to-day, but what I buy with the money or what I don’t buy is none of your business.” And Emil stuffed both fists in his pockets.

“Don’t quarrel, don’t strike, scratch each other’s eyes out instead,” called the grandmother soothingly, and the subject was dropped.

Later Uncle Heimbold took the dog out for an airing. That is—Heimbolds had no dog, but Pony always said that when her father went out to get his evening glass of beer.

The grandmother and the two women and Pony Hütchen and Emil sat in the living room and talked over the past few days, which had been so exciting.

“Well, perhaps the affair has its good points, too,” said Aunt Martha.

“Sure it has,” agreed Emil. “One lesson I’ve learned from it—Never trust anybody.”

And his mother added, “I have learned that you should never let children travel alone.”

“Nonsense,” muttered the grandmother, “all wrong, all wrong.”

“Nonsense! Nonsense! Nonsense!” sang Pony as she rode a chair around the room.

“You think, then, that we can’t learn anything from this experience?” inquired Aunt Martha.

“Certainly,” answered the grandmother.

“What, then?” they all asked in one breath.

“Never send cash, always send a money order,” growled the grandmother, and chuckled like a music box.

“Hurrah!” cried Pony Hütchen, and she rode her chair into the bedroom.

THE END

Footnotes

[1] Tischbein means Table leg.

[2] “Alex” is what they call police headquarters.

Transcriber’s Notes

1. Italicised words are indicated by _underscores_.

2. Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of the
book.

3. Illustrations are indicated by “” and
have been positioned at a relevant location in the text. In the
case of no caption, a description is given wrapped in ().

4. Misspelled words have been corrected (see below). Archaic,
inconsistent and alternative spellings have been left unchanged.
Hyphenation has not been standardised.

5. “* * * * *” indicates a “thought break” represented in the printed
book as a larger gap between paragraphs.

6. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the
Levenshtein Distance.

Corrections:

Page Source Correction Edit distance

v Spy Spy Slips into the Hotel 21
vii in on 1
vii reporter reporters 1
88 children? children?” 1
123 substitues substitutes 1