AROUND TEN O’CLOCK A DELEGATION OF BACKUPS SHOWED up in the courtyard with enough sandwiches to feed a hundred hungering peoples. They asked for further orders. The Professor was furious and told them they had no business coming, but should be waiting on Nikolsburg Square for Truegut, the go-between with the telephone hub.
“Don’t be such a jerk!” said Petzold. “We were just wondering what was going on here.”
“And anyway, we thought something happened to you, because Truegut never showed up,” added Gerold, apologetically.
“How many are still at Nikolsburg Square?” asked Emil.
“Four. Maybe three,” answered Freddie the Great.
“There might only be two left,” said Gerold.
“Don’t ask any more,” exclaimed an enraged Professor. “Next they’ll tell us there’s no one there at all!”
“Why are you yelling?” said Petzold. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
“I move that Petzold be dismissed immediately and forbidden from taking part in the chase,” said the Professor and stomped his foot.
“I’m sorry you’re arguing because of me,” said Emil. “We should vote like they do in parliament. I move that Petzold simply be given a warning. Because we can’t all just do whatever we like.”
“Don’t be so arrogant, you idiots. I’m going anyway, just so you know!” Then Petzold said something else that was extraordinarily rude and took off.
“He was the one who put us up to it. That’s the only reason we came here,” said Gerold. “Zerlett is still back at the reserve camp.”
“Not another word about Petzold,” the Professor ordered. His voice had gotten quiet again, and he was completely in control of himself. “He’s history.”
“And what will happen to us?” asked Freddie the Great.
“It’s best if you wait until Gus comes back from the hotel and gives us a report,” Emil suggested.
“Good idea,” said the Professor. “Isn’t that the bellboy over there?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Emil confirmed.
Standing in the entranceway was a boy wearing an entirely green uniform and a cap the same color on his head. He waved and slowly came toward them.
“Man, look at that cool uniform he has on!” said Gerold enviously.
“Do you have any news from our spy Gustav?” the Professor called out.
The boy was already pretty close to them. He nodded and said, “Yep.”
“So what’s the story?” Emil asked eagerly.
Suddenly a horn honked. And the boy in green jumped up and down in the entryway like a madman, laughing. “Man, Emil!” he shouted, “You are so dumb!”
It wasn’t the boy at all; it was none other than Gus.
“Look, it’s a leprechaun!” Emil pretended to make fun of him. And everyone had a good laugh until someone opened one of the windows overlooking the courtyard and shouted, “Pipe down out there!”
“Excellent!” said the Professor, “But let’s keep it down, gentlemen. Gus, come over here and tell us everything.”
“It’s like in the movies, bud. Totally wild. Listen to this. So there I am sneaking into the hotel. I see the bellboy standing around and wave him over. He comes up to me, right, and I give him the scoop. From A to Z, more or less. I tell him about Emil. About us. And about the thief. And that the guy’s staying in the hotel. And that we’re busting a gut keeping watch over him so we can track down that money again tomorrow.
“‘Great,’ he says. ‘I have an extra uniform. You can wear it and play the other bellboy.’
“‘But what will the porter say? I’m sure he’ll be mad,’ I said to him.
“‘Oh, the porter won’t be mad. He’ll be fine with it,’ the bellboy said. ‘He’s my dad.’
“I have no idea what he said to his old man. But whatever it was, I got this uniform here, and they’re letting me stay in an empty room for the staff, and I can even bring someone with me. So what do you all say to that?”
“What room is the thief staying in?” asked the Professor.
“Man, what is it with you? You’re impossible to impress!” Gus grumbled, insulted. “Naturally I don’t have to do anything. Just keep out of the way is all. The bellboy thought the thief checked into room 61, a single room, no shower, no nothing. So I go up to the third floor and start playing spy. Completely inconspicuous, of course. Hiding on the other side of the stairs and stuff. After a half hour or so the door to room 61 actually opens. And who should come marching out? None other than Ol’ Pickpocket! He had to go use the—well, you know. I had a good look at him this afternoon, and it was him! Short, black moustache; ears so thin you could see the moon shining through them; and a face I wouldn’t trade mine with for anything! As he was coming back from the—well, you know—I mosey up to him, stand my ground, and ask, ‘Are you looking for something, sir? Anything I can help you with, sir?’
“‘No,’ he says, ‘I don’t need anything. Well, actually…Wait! Tell the porter to wake me up at eight. Room 61. And don’t forget!’
“‘Oh no, you can depend on me, sir!’ I say, pinching my leg with excitement. ‘I sure won’t forget that, sir! The phone in room 61 will ring at eight o’clock sharp.’ They wake people up by phone, you know. Then our thief just nodded, satisfied, and crept back into his lair.”
“Excellent!” The Professor was more than satisfied, and the others were pretty happy about it, too. “We’ll wait for him in front of the hotel after eight. Then the chase will continue. And then we’ll catch him.”
“He’s a dead man,” said Gerold.
“’Please omit flowers,’” said Gus. “Well, I gotta take off. I said I’d drop a letter in the mailbox for room 12. Fifty cent tip. This job pays pretty well! Somedays the bellboy makes ten marks in tips. He says. So, anyway, I’ll be up around seven o’clock and make sure our scoundrel gets woken up on time. And then I’ll make my way back down here.”
“Man, Gus, I am so grateful to you,” said Emil, almost like he was giving a speech. “Nothing more can happen now. Tomorrow we’ll have him snared. And now we can all go home and go to bed. What do you say, Professor?”
“By all means. Let’s all take off and get a good night’s sleep. All those present will be back here tomorrow morning, at eight o’clock sharp. And if anyone can get hold of a little dough, please do. I’ll call little Tuesday now. I’ll ask him to have everyone who reports tomorrow show up here as reinforcements. We may have to organize a blockade. You never know.”
“I’ll go with Gus and sleep in the hotel,” said Emil.
“Let’s go, bud! You’ll love it. It’s a big ol’ flea trap!”
“I’ll make that phone call first,” said the Professor, “then I’ll go home, too, and relieve Zerlett on the way. Otherwise he’ll still be sitting at Nikolsburg Square tomorrow morning, waiting for commands. Okay, have I made myself clear?”
“Yessirree, Commissioner!” Gus laughed.
“Tomorrow morning, eight o’clock sharp, here in the courtyard,” said Gerold.
“Oh, and bring money,” Freddie the Great remembered.
They said goodbye to each other, shaking each other’s hands like little businessmen. Some of them marched off home. Gus and Emil went to the hotel. The Professor walked diagonally across Nollendorf Square in order to call little Tuesday from Café Hahnen.
An hour later they were all asleep, most of them in their own beds, two in staff quarters, on the fourth floor of Hotel Kreid.
And one next to the telephone, in Dad’s armchair. That one was little Tuesday. He refused to leave his post. Truegut had gone home. But little Tuesday wouldn’t budge from the phone. He curled up on the upholstered seat and slept and dreamed of four million telephone calls.
At midnight his parents got back from the theater. They were a little surprised to see their son in the armchair.
His mother picked him up and carried him off to bed. He flinched and murmured in his sleep, “Code word Emil!”