Chapter 1

_A NOVEL_

BY
NORBERT JACQUES

AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION
BY
LILIAN A. CLARE

LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD.
RUSKIN HOUSE, 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C. 1.

_First published in 1923_

(_All rights reserved_)

_Printed in Great Britain by_
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, LONDON AND WOKING

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

Since there is no actual equivalent of the position of “Staatsanwalt”
it is almost impossible to find an English rendering that conveys
its full meaning. In part the duties assimilate those of the Public
Prosecutor, but in England we can hardly conceive of an official of
high judicial status personally identifying himself with his cases to
the extent of disguising himself and playing the part of a detective.
Wenk’s position appears to combine some of the offices which would here
be delegated to various individuals acting more or less independently
as subordinates to a higher and single authority. He was a barrister
and an LL.D., and a person of some influence, however, as his threat
to the governor of the women’s prison, and his treatment of the night
editor prove.

In accordance with modern German usage I have adhered to the original
in dropping the “von,” when intimates of the same social class are
speaking to or of each other, maintaining it in the more formal
intercourse and the reports tendered by social inferiors.

Readers should note that in the currency now prevailing, the amounts
staked by Hull and his friends would be tens of thousands, and his
total losses would run into many millions.

DR. MABUSE

I

The distinguished-looking elderly gentleman introduced himself and,
as usual, nobody caught the name. He wore a suit of fashionable and
well-cut clothes, however, and his scarf-pin was a single white
pearl in a somewhat quaint setting, its dazzling purity recalling
the whiteness of a lovely blonde’s shoulders, as Karstens remarked.
Moreover, he at once placed a sum of twenty thousand marks upon the
table in front of him.

He had been brought to the club by young Hull, the heir to an
industrial concern worth millions, into which his father allowed him to
dip freely. Play was started immediately, and the stranger courteously
agreed to the game proposed, which was vingt-et-un. The stakes were
unlimited, and the first one to hold the bank was Ritter.

At first there was nothing unusual about the game. Gains and losses
alternated, but soon it was noticed that Hull was losing, and this
began just at the time when it was the elderly gentleman’s turn to play
banker. At the start it was hundred-mark notes that Hull lost, but he
played on calmly, resigned to his ill-luck. Notes of smaller value
were now mingled with the piles of thousands the visitor had put in
front of him.

It was only outwardly, however, that Hull appeared undisturbed. He felt
a good deal of excitement within, and a veil seemed to be obscuring his
mental vision. His bank-notes fluttered across to the stranger without
his appearing aware of the fact. His senses seemed to be imprisoned in
a delicate, invisible web, pressing ever more and more closely upon him.

He drank a brandy and soda, and then ordered a bottle of champagne. The
only effect of that was to make him open another compartment of his
pocket-book and bring out the thousand-mark notes which he had procured
from the bank that morning. His bad luck became really fantastic. Even
when he held good cards it seemed as if in some obscure region of his
mind a mysterious warning sealed his lips, and instead of staking a
substantial sum, he wagered a trifling amount merely.

It was now the visitor’s turn to pass on the office of banker, but he
volunteered to continue to hold it on account of Hull. He said: “If you
gentlemen do not object, I will remain banker for a few more rounds.
You see how the money seems to cling to me. I am the guest of your
hospitable club, so please consider how difficult my position is with
regard to Herr von Hull, and grant my request.” His speech was polite,
and carefully enunciated, yet there was a masterful ring about the
words, as if the speaker would brook no refusal.

The club attendant eyed the guest suspiciously, but he was using the
cards provided by the club and fresh packs were opened every time. The
play grew more animated. A good deal had been drunk, and several round
the table were slightly intoxicated. The guest did not refrain from
drinking, and his behaviour was in no way peculiar. He had a steady
and lingering glance for everyone who looked at him, and his large
grey eyes seemed to have something dominating about them, hardly in
accordance with a mere game. His hands were large and fleshy, and as
steady as if carved out of wood, while the fingers of the other men,
far younger than he, were already quivering with excitement.

Hull continued playing, though his pocket-book grew lighter and
lighter. “What is the matter with me?” he continually asked himself. He
wanted to rise from the table and miss a round, so that he could get a
mouthful of fresh air at the window and gain a little calm from looking
into the silent night. But he sat as if glued to his chair, pressing
his elbows down on the crimson cloth, and his thoughts escaped his
control, falling into a void like that of deep slumber.

And yet he was not really a reckless player. He was accustomed to
reflect and to follow the run of luck, making use of chances that were
favourable to him, and reducing his stakes when he saw that the odds
were against him.

This evening, however, he seemed to know no bounds. No amount seemed
of any value in his eyes, and it appeared as if he were almost glad
to lose, and saw his notes change hands with a kind of satisfaction.
Something would be sure to happen ere long. The players seemed far too
slow in dealing, he thought; they took an endless time in declaring
their stakes, and the notes crawled round the table at a snail’s pace.