The Man with the Clubfoot

yself standing there in the dark calmly reviewing the extraordinary situation in which I now found myself. That's the curious thing about shell-shock: after it a motor back-firing or a ty

that rapid patter of the hands. Anyone who has seen a man die quickly knows them. Accordingly

s blueish lips, when I found him wrestling with his key, and I gues

ing curtains and got the windows shut. Then only did I raise my candle until its

assy between the half-closed lids, while his fingers, still stiffly clutching, showed paint

o see that a heart attack had swi

gged the body by the shoulders into the room until it

Indeed, my position was, to say the least, scarcely enviable. Here was I, a British officer with British papers of identity, about to be discovered in a German hot

btedly a mos

ist

e hotel was sile

again the hint of Jewish ancestry I had remarked before. Now that the man's eyes-his big, thoughtful eyes that had stared at me out of

irthday) and about my own height, which is five feet ten. There was something

n the fel

ng oddly familiar about him when I first sa

s back on the faded carpet. I brought the

fter all: more likely a Hungarian or a Pole, perhaps even a Dutchman. His Germa

ed position. As I did so I caught a glimp

ded me of Fra

Was it the thick black hair, the small dark moustache? Was it the well-c

portfolio in the inner breast pocket. Here, I thought, might be a clue to the dead man's ident

portfolio t

silver cigarette case, perfectly plain, containing half a dozen cigarettes. I took one out and looked at it. It was a Melania, a cigarette I h

unknown friend ha

plain silver wa

h silver and coppers, some Dutch silver and paper money

was

me. Then I got up, put the candle on the table,

ere visiting cards. Some were simply e

Se

ere more

in, Broo

right Mfg

o half a dozen

333 E. 73rd

on Park

an the rest, an expensive affair on thick, highly gl

on Ste

written in pencil

ntje," and in brackets, t

mlin, a United States citizen, travelling to Europe. Details in the body of the document set forth that Henry Semlin was born at Brooklyn on 31st March, 1886, that his hair was Bla

s previously. With it was a British permit, issued to Henry Semlin, Manufacturer, granting him authority to leave the United Kingdom for the pur

sane impulse, I owed the idea that suddenly germinated in my brain as I sat fingering the dead man's letter-case in that squalid room. The impulse sprang into my brain l

was an American business man, who had just come from London, h

and decently dressed, should go to a German hotel on the recommendation of a G

the city. Still, Americans are cautious folk and I found it rather improbable that this American business man should adventure himself into this evil

y Semlin wanted to do business in Germany on his European trip as well as in England. Knowing the attitude of the British authorities, he may well hav

igence had made of neutral passports in the past. Therefore I determined to go next door and have a look at Dr. Semlin's lu

the corridor and turned to lock the bedroom door behind me, the mi

elf in the glass, a

riddle that had puzzled me in the

of Francis that hi

as m

oom; Semlin must have dropped it in his fall, so it behoved me to make haste for

he hat was from Scott's: there was nothing except

the table. It contained a few toilet necessaries, a pair of pyjamas, a clean shirt

ed the safety razor case, shook out the shirt, and finally took

s, like this one was, are lined. At the bottom of the bag an oblong piece of the lining had apparently been torn clean out. The leather of the bag showed through

table beside it an oblong of yellow canvas. I picked it up and fo

ning and it was stiff with som

paper. Top, bottom and left-hand side of each was trim and glossy: the fourth side showed a broken edge as though it had been roughly c

what, it was not possible to determine, for the crest had been i

ut the name of the recipient as als

t rent the veil of mystery enveloping the corpse that lay stiffening in the next room. This, at any rate, was certain: German or American or hyphenate, Henry Semlin, manufacturer and spy, had voyaged from America to England not for the purposes of trade but to get hold of that mutilated doc

thought it was a coin, then I felt some kind of clasp or fastening behind it and it seemed to be a brooch. Out came my pocket knife again and there

2

. V

Semlin's real

a badge of the Ger

is known euphemistically as that of the Political Police. Ostensibly it attends to the safety of the monarch, and of distinguished personages generally, a

f personal attacks in obscure blackmailing sheets against inconvenient politicians to the escorting of unpleasantly truthful foreign correspondents to the frontier. It is the obedient handmaiden of the Intelligence Departm

lacker and more sinister activities. It is frequently entrusted with commissions of which it would be inexpedient for offici

ffects into his bag, stuck his hat upon my head and threw his overcoat on my arm, picked up his bag and

of Semlin's American passport to get into Germany? The answer to that question lay in the little silver badge. I knew that no German official, whatever his standing, whatever his orders, would refuse passage to the silver star of Section Seven. It nee

, then it was of equal, nay, of greater importance to my country. If I w

guarded land as you have now! You have plenty of money, what with your own and this ..." and I fingered Semlin's wad of notes, "and provided you can keep your head suf

nd set on a thing), "maybe in German surroundings, you may get some sense into that mysterious

slight and possibly imaginative resemblance between him and me: I had to take such measures as would prevent the fraud from being detected when the body was discovered in the hotel: above all, I had to ascertain, before

onsiderable unpleasantness, if not grave danger, would be to transfer his identity and effects to myself and vice versa. When

f the hotel and at the same time ascertain that Semlin was as much a stranger there as myself, I could decide on my further course of action in the greater freedom of the streets of Rotte

hotel, the waiter had only seen him for

hing bearing any relation to my personality, such as my watch and cigarette case, both of which were engraved with my initials, I transferred to the dead man's pockets. As I bent ove

oing to do a

ent came a

e heart I remembered I had