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Updated: July 29, 2025
It was in this sphere, where the personal is grafted on the political, that Clubfoot reigned supreme ... here and in another sphere, where German William is not only monarch, but also a very ordinary man. "There are phases in every man's life, Okewood, which hardly bear the light of day. In an autocracy, however, such phases are generally inextricably entangled with political questions.
My false trail should lead Clubfoot in a totally unexpected direction, I determined, for it is the unexpected that first engages the notice of the alert, detective type of mind. I would also have to select another terminus. Why not Munich? A large city on the high road to a foreign frontier Switzerland with authorities whose easy-going ways are proverbial in Germany.
Clubfoot wore a dinner-coat and, as he laughed, his white expanse of shirt-front heaved to the shaking of his deep chest. For a moment, however, I had little thought of him or the ugly-looking Browning he held in his fist. My ears were strained for any sound that might betray Francis' presence in the garden. But all remained silent as the grave.
He was trembling all over. I could feel his elbow quiver where it touched mine. "No, Des, please ..." he pleaded, "let me ... this is my show...." Then, in a voice that vibrated with suppressed passion, he spoke swiftly to Clubfoot. "Take a good look at me, Grundt," he said sternly. "You don't know me, do you? I am Francis Okewood, brother of the man who has brought you to your fall.
"And it can't begin too quick," said I. "Done," said he. "At it they go, right here in the road, and the devil take me if Malan does not dust your man's back for you." He spun around, caught up the lantern, and we all went up to the level floor of the abutment at the bridge sill. Lem Marks and the clubfoot were waiting. Woodford turned to them.
As I did so the place was suddenly flooded with light and a voice a voice I had often heard in my dreams called out imperiously: "Stay where you are and put your hands above your head!" Clubfoot stood there, a pistol in his great hand pointed at me. "Grundt!" I shouted but I did not move. And Clubfoot laughed. I saw the lights flash up in the room.
A hot wave of anger drove the blood into my cheeks as I looked at him, fat and soft and so triumphant at his victory. The sight of him, however, gave me the tonic I needed. My nerve was shaken badly, but I was determined it must answer to this last strain, to play this uncouth fish for two hours. After that ... if nothing happened ... Clubfoot sent the sergeant away.
He tried to cheat Clubfoot, and we know what happened to him!" "They're raking the whole city for this Englishman," answered the other man. "Vogel, who works for Section Seven, you know the man I mean, was telling me. They've done every hotel in Berlin and the suburbs, but they haven't found him. They raided Bauer's in the Favoriten-Strasse last night.
It was a hard knock, but I consoled myself by the reflection that, by now, Clubfoot knew I had this badge ... it would doubtless figure in any description circulated about me. It was a most unpleasant journey. There was some kind of choral society on the train, occupying seven or eight compartments of the third-class coach in which I was travelling.
I had heard something of the Kaiser's sudden appearances and disappearances during the war, but I had not thought they could be so well managed as to be kept from the knowledge of one of his own trusted servants, for such I judged Clubfoot to be.
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