Emil and the Detectives

There!” said Frau Tischbein. “Now, just follow me with that pitcher of hot water.” She herself took another pitcher and the little blue jug with the liquid camomile soap and walked out of the kitchen into the living room. Emil took up his pitcher and followed his mother.

In the living room sat a woman with her head bent over the white washbowl. Her hair was undone and hung down like three pounds of wool. Emil’s mother poured the liquid camomile soap over the woman’s blonde hair and rubbed the strange head until it foamed.

“Is it too hot?” she said.

“Well, it will do,” replied the head.

“Oh, that’s Frau Bäckermeister Wirth. How do you do?” said Emil and shoved his pitcher under the washstand.

“You’re lucky, Emil. I hear you are going to Berlin,” remarked the head. And it sounded as if whoever was speaking was buried in whipped cream.

Emil felt of his right breast pocket and was relieved when he heard the envelope crackle. His traveling companions all looked like trustworthy people and not like robbers or murderers. Next to the man who puffed so sat a woman who was crocheting a shawl. And by the window near Emil a man in a stiff hat was reading the newspaper.

Suddenly he laid the paper aside, took from his pocket a bar of chocolate, held it out to the boy, and said, “Well, young man, want some?”

“Thank you very much,” answered Emil and took the chocolate. Then he hastily took off his cap, as an afterthought, made a little bow, and said, “Emil Tischbein is my name.”

The passengers laughed. The man, for his part, solemnly lifted his hat and said, “Very pleased, my name’s Grundeis!”

Then the fat woman who had taken off her left shoe asked him, “Does the shopkeeper Kurzhals still live in Neustadt?”

As Emil awoke the train was just getting under way again. He had fallen off the seat in his sleep and was lying on the floor, frightened almost out of his wits without knowing why. His heart was beating like a trip hammer. There he squatted in the train and had almost forgotten where he was. Bit by bit it all came back to him. Right—he was going to Berlin. And he had fallen asleep. Just like the man in the stiff hat....

Emil sat bolt upright with a jerk and whispered, “Why, he’s gone off.” His knees trembled. Very slowly he got up and mechanically brushed the dust off his suit. Then the next question was, “Is the money still there?” And at that question he felt an indescribable terror.

For a long time he stood leaning against the door, not daring to move. Just over there that man Grundeis had sat and slept and snored. And now he was gone. Of course, everything might be all right. It was absurd to be suspicious right away. Just because Emil was going to Friedrich Strasse Station in Berlin was no reason why everyone else had to go there too. And the money, of course, was safe in its proper place. First, it was in his pocket. Second, it was in the envelope. And third, it was fastened to the lining with a pin. And then he reached slowly into his right inside pocket.

The pocket was empty! The money was gone!

Come, follow me of your own accord, now, or I’ll have to put the handcuffs on you.”

Suddenly a horn tooted right behind Emil. He jumped aside in fright and turned around to see a boy who stood there laughing at him.

“There, man, don’t get excited,” said the boy.

“Who honked that horn behind me?” asked Emil.

“Why, me, of course. You don’t come from Wilmersdorf, do you? Otherwise you’d have known long ago that I have a horn in my pants’ pocket. Everyone around here knows me as well as if I were a freak.”

“I’m from Neustadt. I just came from the station.”

“From Neustadt, eh? That’s why you’ve got such a goofy suit on?”

“Take that back! Or I’ll give you one that’ll lay you out cold.”

“Shucks man,” said the other cheerfully, “are you cross? The weather’s too excellent for fighting, but it’s O.K. with me.”

“We’ll ’tend to that later,” declared Emil. “I haven’t any time for such stuff now.” And he looked across at the café to see if Grundeis was still sitting there.

“I thought you had all the time in the world. Get behind a news-stand with his bag and his flowers and then start to play hide and go seek with himself. A fellow must have ten or twenty yards of time left over to do that.”

“No,” said Emil, “I’m watching a thief!”

“What? Did I understand the first time?” said the other. “Who did he swipe from?”

The man in the stiff hat folded up his paper, glanced over the passers-by, and then like lightning beckoned to an empty taxi that was passing. The taxi stopped, the man got in, and the taxi rolled off.

But, presto, there sat the boys in another taxi, and Gustav was saying to the driver: “Do you see that car that’s just turning into Prager Place? Yes? Drive behind it, please. But be careful, so that he won’t notice.” The car started up, crossed Kaiser Avenue, and traveled along at a safe distance behind the other taxi.

“What’s up?” asked the chauffeur.

“The fellow ahead there pulled a raw one, and we’re sticking to him like burrs,” explained Gustav. “But that’s just between ourselves, understand?”

“Just as you gentlemen wish,” answered the chauffeur, and inquired further: “But have you any money?”

“What do you take us for?” called the Professor reproachfully.

“Oh, well,” grumbled the man.

“I A. 3733 is his number,” Emil informed them.

“That’s important,” decided the Professor, and made a note of the figures.

“Not too near to the fellow,” warned Krummbiegel.

“All right,” mumbled the chauffeur.

So they went down Motz Street, down Viktoria-Luise Place and on down Motz Street again. Some people stopped on the sidewalk and laughed at the strange company of gentlemen in the taxi.

“Duck,” whispered Gustav. The boys threw themselves on the floor of the cab and lay huddled together like cabbages and turnips.

“What’s the matter?” asked the Professor.

“There’s a red light at Luther Street, man! You’ve got to stop there, and the other car won’t get across, either.”