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23 - Miss Pim's Camouflage by Dorothy Tennant · Miss Pims Camouflage

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  Speaker 1: Stanley, chapter twenty three. The walk back to Potsdam through
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  Speaker 1: the shaded alleys of San Souci was delightful. On her
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  Speaker 1: way to the Palaced hotel, she saw a shop where
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  Speaker 1: large brown canvas bags were hanging by leather straps. Before
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  Speaker 1: the war, these bags were largely in request, being more
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  Speaker 1: portable than basket or trunk. Miss Pimm detached one with
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  Speaker 1: difficulty and carried it off to her room at the hotel.
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  Speaker 1: In this she stowed all the letters, the silken coverlet,
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  Speaker 1: which she valued as a trophy, and the contents of
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  Speaker 1: her rucksack. At first, she tried strapping the canvas package
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  Speaker 1: round her waist, but it was awkward and bulky and
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  Speaker 1: impeded her movements. So she managed, with the straps of
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  Speaker 1: the discarded bag to fasten it to her shoulders and
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  Speaker 1: carry it packwise on her back. She did not find
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  Speaker 1: it heavy or inconvenient, and Miss Pim had not been
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  Speaker 1: fifty and sober minded, she would have skipped round the
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  Speaker 1: room like a kid. Now, mindful of her promise to
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  Speaker 1: the baron, she fastened the envelopes up against the window panes, and,
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  Speaker 1: taking a farewell look round the room, she left her
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  Speaker 1: old rucksack as a memento of her unperceived visit, and
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  Speaker 1: walked to the Potsdam station. Once in Berlin, miss Pim
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  Speaker 1: made her way to the Adlon Hotel. The grander the hotel,
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  Speaker 1: the more likely she was to secure a room. This
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  Speaker 1: time she took a fine suite overlooking the Linden, and
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  Speaker 1: in a deep drawer to the handsome wardrobe, she bestowed
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  Speaker 1: her bundle. Of course, it might be discovered, but miss
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  Speaker 1: Pim felt she must take the risk, which was minimized
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  Speaker 1: by Locke and Key during the uncomfortable journey from Potsdam.
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  Speaker 1: In the luggage VAM, miss Pim had thought out her
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  Speaker 1: day in Berlin. Coitsick must be warned at the number
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  Speaker 1: in Merkelstrasse. She might find him or someone who could
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  Speaker 1: be trusted to convey a message to him. And if
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  Speaker 1: revolutionary friends were indisposed to put themselves out, miss Pim
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  Speaker 1: must journey to warn him wherever he might be. The
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  Speaker 1: day was still too young, she thought, for a visit
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  Speaker 1: to the nest of desperadoes. Miss Pim had a melodramatic
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  Speaker 1: picture in her mind of revolutionaries sleeping all day in
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  Speaker 1: underground bunks and by night armed to the teeth seated
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  Speaker 1: at a rough table, plotting by the light of guttering
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  Speaker 1: candles stuck in bottles. So Miss Pim spent a dreary
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  Speaker 1: day examining monuments of warrior kings or wandering through museums.
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  Speaker 1: She began with the National Gallery, where she saw, without observing,
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  Speaker 1: some eleven hundred oil paintings and thirty thousand water colors.
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  Speaker 1: She next attempted the Emperor Frederick Museum, but rejoiced to
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  Speaker 1: find it closed. At Rabinet's Picture Gallery, less fortunate, she
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  Speaker 1: gained admission and viewed a collection of old Berlin masters,
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  Speaker 1: each picture more frightful than the last. The Museum of
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  Speaker 1: Industrial Art fairly finished Miss Pim and drove her to
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  Speaker 1: the restaurant Royal on the Linden, where she picked up
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  Speaker 1: the best meal she could get. But it came to
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  Speaker 1: her very forcibly that Germany was experiencing a most alarming
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  Speaker 1: food shortage. The private gormandizing she heard Germans complain of.
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  Speaker 1: Miss Pim did not believe in There was no sign
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  Speaker 1: of it anywhere. Sausages could still be bought, but no
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  Speaker 1: English person could trust himself to touch that most doubtful composition.
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  Speaker 1: Even the smoked and preserved fish had gone beyond the
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  Speaker 1: power of smoke and salt to preserve. Miss Pym was
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  Speaker 1: sick of Berlin. She sat with a cup of coffee
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  Speaker 1: at the Cafe Royal and watched the passers by till
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  Speaker 1: the hot sun disappeared, leaving a hot twilight. Miss Pim
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  Speaker 1: had not a notion where to look for Merclestrassa, a
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  Speaker 1: mean street leading down to the Spree. As the Spree
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  Speaker 1: meanders all over Berlin, it would be very difficult to find.
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  Speaker 1: The only thing was to walk to some poor quarter
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  Speaker 1: near the river and inquire from children. Even this method failed.
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  Speaker 1: She was frequently misdirected and as often disappointed. Up and
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  Speaker 1: down streets of lofty houses, awful tenement buildings teeming with
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  Speaker 1: women and children. Back from munition works, miss Pim trudged along,
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  Speaker 1: looking a very woebegone person in bedraggled morning. Her feet
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  Speaker 1: were so tired she felt as though her boots were
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  Speaker 1: sold with lead. Bitterly, she regretted the miles of museum
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  Speaker 1: floor she had paced. An aged German jew wearing a
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  Speaker 1: kind of kaftan and an exceedingly dirty smoking cap, bowed
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  Speaker 1: to her deeply as she passed and begged the ganatic
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  Speaker 1: affraw to honor his poor dwelling, where possibly some of
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  Speaker 1: his antiquities might tempt her. Miss Pym decided to honor him.
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  Speaker 1: It would be well worth her while to paint some
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  Speaker 1: marks for the chance of resting a little while. The
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  Speaker 1: black underground cellar was crowded with rusty fenders, worn out
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  Speaker 1: old stoves, lame tables, and all the refuse of decayed
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  Speaker 1: tenements which had withstood the disintegration of years. Miss Pims
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  Speaker 1: sank down on a wooden stool polished by generations of Germans.
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  Speaker 1: Possibly Gurtha's grandmother's cook had sat on that very stool.
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  Speaker 1: I am afraid you have nothing here which could possibly
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  Speaker 1: tempt me, sighed Miss Pim, looking round. The fact is
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  Speaker 1: I am looking for a street, a very horrse street
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  Speaker 1: leading to the Spree, and no one can direct me.
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  Speaker 1: I have lived in Berlin close on eighty years. Maybe
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  Speaker 1: I could direct you. But if you will come into
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  Speaker 1: my back shop first, I will show you something more
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  Speaker 1: tempting than this rubbish, he said, and lifting back some
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  Speaker 1: old clothes hanging on the wall, he stooped and led
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  Speaker 1: the way through a black hole, striking a light. He
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  Speaker 1: held up a candle, and Miss Pim found herself in
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  Speaker 1: a small room lined with very old, very bad oil paintings.
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  Speaker 1: Here you see a collection of priceless old masters, said
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  Speaker 1: the aged Jew, his eyes glistening. But if they do
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  Speaker 1: not tempt you, I have treasures more portable, more valuable,
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  Speaker 1: and more easily concealed. And groping inside his kaftan, he
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  Speaker 1: brought out a leather bag and poured into his hand
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  Speaker 1: a little heap of diamonds. The majority were small, but
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  Speaker 1: there was a fair number of large sized diamonds which
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  Speaker 1: glittered in the Jew's black hand like fragments of stars.
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  Speaker 1: Take your choice, frowline. They are of a fine water,
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  Speaker 1: priceless gems. Miss Pim turned away. I am very sorry,
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  Speaker 1: but I cannot buy diamonds. I am traveling and return
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  Speaker 1: to my home in Switzerland in a few days. I
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  Speaker 1: could not buy diamonds even if I wished to do so,
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  Speaker 1: because I have not enough money. But these I would
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  Speaker 1: sell you at a quarter of their value, O, most
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  Speaker 1: greatly honored lady, You would make money on them in
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  Speaker 1: Switzerland four times over what you paid. Miss Pym was
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  Speaker 1: firm and stooped to go out through the low doorway.
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  Speaker 1: The old man swept the precious stones back into the
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  Speaker 1: leather bag and begged miss Pim to select a small
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  Speaker 1: Raphael or a sketch by Rubens. But Miss Pim instinctively
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  Speaker 1: objected to being hustled into making purchases once again in
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  Speaker 1: the dismal shop. The jew resumed his mournful, deprecating air.
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  Speaker 1: Perhaps the lady would return on the morrow and view
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  Speaker 1: his art treasures by a better light. Miss Pym, now
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  Speaker 1: longing to be gone as the dusk had deepened into
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  Speaker 1: night and poor streets are ill lighted, assured the old
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  Speaker 1: man that she might return with a friend who collected pictures.
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  Speaker 1: Could he tell her where Marcle Strassa was? Marcle Strassa
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  Speaker 1: leading down to the spree, Why, yes, he knew it
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  Speaker 1: very well, but it had an evil name, and it
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  Speaker 1: was hardly a safe place to visit at night. Miss
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  Speaker 1: Pym insisted that she must go there, and if he
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  Speaker 1: would accompany her so far, she would give him a mark.
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  Speaker 1: The old man's eyes shone and he readily consented. The
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  Speaker 1: street was not more than a quarter of an hour's walk,
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  Speaker 1: he said, but it would be hard to describe the
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  Speaker 1: turnings end of chapter twenty three,