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Updated: June 18, 2025
It was too old a voice to be Grimm's; besides, it had the ring of authority, and was dealing at the moment in sharp interrogations. Three of its sentences I caught in their entirety. 'When was that? 'They went no farther? and 'Too long; out of the question. Dollmann's voice, though nearest to me, was the least audible of all.
I made myself forget the other part. 'Which recurred at Brunsbüttel? I thought of the news we had there. 'Yes. 'Davies, we must have no more secrets. I'm going to speak out. Are you sure you've not misunderstood her? You say and I'm willing to assume it that Dollmann's a traitor and a murderer. 'Oh, hang the murder part! said Davies, impatiently. 'What does that matter? 'Well, traitor.
On another chair, with its back actually tilted against the window, Dollmann. Such were the principal features of the scene; for details I had to make another inspection. Stooping low, I crept back, quiet as a cat, till I was beneath the window, and, as I calculated, directly behind Dollmann's chair. Then with great caution I raised my head.
There was only one pair of eyes in the room that I feared in the least, and that was Grimm's, who sat in profile to me, farthest away. I instantly put Dollmann's back between Grimm and me, and then made my scrutiny. As I made it, I could feel a cold sweat distilling on my forehead and tickling my spine; not from fear or excitement, but from pure ignominy.
His friend, Herr Böhme, 'the distinguished engineer', was anxious to see over the little vessel that had come so far, and he knew that Davies would not mind the intrusion. Not at all, said Davies; would not they stop and have drinks? No, but would we come to supper at Dollmann's villa? With pleasure, said Davies, but we had to change first.
She guessed foul play by seeing that book. 'Of course she did; but I was thinking of something else. There are two stories afloat now yours to von Brüning, the true one, that you followed the Medusa to the short cut; and Dollmann's to her, that you went round the Scharhorn.
Von Brüning's voice the only one I had ever heard before I recognized at once: he was on the left of the table, and Dollmann's I knew from his position. The third was a harsh croak, belonging to the old gentleman whom, for convenience, I shall prematurely begin to call Herr Böhme.
Apparently at Wangeroog, but possibly in the estuaries, where we had not fired a shot at duck. Perhaps he knew even more Dollmann's treachery, Davies's escape, and our subsequent movements we could not tell. On the other hand, exploration was known to be a fad of Davies's, and in September he had made no secret of it.
There need be no prowlers scuttling off when alarmed, unless indeed it was thought wisest to let well alone, if we were harmless, and not to arouse suspicions where there were none. Here we lost ourselves in conjecture. Whose agent was the prowler? If Dollmann's, did Dollmann know now that the Dulcibella was safe, and back in the region he had expelled her from?
But on that point he was immovably reticent, and all I could conclude was that the strange cross-current connected with Dollmann's daughter had given him cruel pain and had clouded his judgement to distraction, but that he now was prepared to forget or ignore it, and steer a settled course. The facts I elicited raised several important questions.
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