The Begum's Millions

8. The Dragon’s Lair

 This went straight to Herr Schultze’s heart. He deigned to look at his employee. “So, will you undertake to design a cannon with me? We’ll see how you get along . . . Ah! you’ll have trouble replacing that idiot Sohne,8 who killed himself this morning handling a stick of dynamite ! The half-wit might have blown us all up!” One must admit that this lack of sympathy did not seem too unusual coming from the mouth of Herr Schultze! The Dragon’s Lair The reader who has followed the progress of the young Alsatian’s fortune will probably not be surprised to find him, at the end of a few weeks, working closely and becoming very familiar with Herr Schultze.1 The two had become inseparable. Work, meals, promenades in the park, leisurely smoking over draughts of beer—they did everything in common. Never had the former professor from Iéna met a collaborator who seemed so much after his own heart, who understood his every notion, so to speak, who knew how to put into practice so quickly his theoretical ideas. Marcel was not only of transcendent value in all branches of his trade; he was also the most charming companion, the most assiduous of workers, the most modestly fertile inventor. Herr Schultze was delighted with him. Ten times a day he would say to himself in petto: “What a find! What a pearl is this young lad!”2 The truth is that Marcel, from the first glance, had seen through the character of his formidable employer. He had understood that the latter’s most dominant trait was an immense and insatiable egotism , manifested on the outside by an extreme vanity, and Marcel had decided to regulate his own conduct on it at every instant. In a matter of days, the young Alsatian had learned the finger8  positions of this human keyboard so well that he soon succeeded in “playing” Schultze like a piano. His tactic consisted simply in demonstrating his personal worth as much as possible, but in such a way as to always leave Schultze an opportunity to reestablish his superiority over him. For example, in completing a design, he did it perfectly—except for one easy-to-see and easily correctable defect , which the former professor never failed to point out with great satisfaction. Were he to develop some theoretical concept, he sought to have it come out in conversation in such a way that Herr Schultze could believe he had discovered it. Sometimes he went even further, saying , for example: “I’ve laid out this plan for a ship with a detachable ram at the bow, which you asked me for.” “Me?” replied Herr Schultze, who had never imagined such a thing. “Why, yes! Perhaps you have forgotten? A detachable ram, leaving in the enemy’s flank a cone-shaped torpedo which explodes within three minutes.” “Ah! I just had no recollection. So many ideas jostling about in my head!” And Herr Schultze conscientiously pocketed the credit for the new invention. Perhaps, after all, he was but a partial dupe to this maneuvering. Deep down, it is probable that he felt Marcel to be the stronger. But like one of those mysterious fermentations which operate in human minds, he was content to “appear” superior, and especially to maintain this illusion before his subordinate. “Is he ever stupid for all his intelligence, this fellow!” he said to himself on occasion, silently baring in a mute smile the thirty-two “ivories” in his mouth. Besides, his vanity had soon found a scale of compensation. He alone in the world could bring about these kinds of industrial dreams! These dreams only had value through him and by him!  Marcel, after all, was just one of the cogs of the organization that only he, Schultze, had been able to create! etc., etc. . . . Nevertheless, he never divested himself, one might say. After five months within the Tower of the Bull, Marcel knew little more than at the outset about the mysteries of the Central Block. In truth, his suspicions had become virtual certitudes. He was more and more convinced that Stahlstadt was hiding a secret, and that Herr Schultze had yet another goal than that of commercial gain. The nature of the latter’s obsessions—and even his industry—made infinitely more reasonable the hypothesis that he had invented some new engine of war. But the...