Emil Strauss was the name of Irving's coworker in the card index room. One could hardly say that he was either an agreeable or a disagreeable fellow. He had little to say. It was generally understood that he was very efficient in his work and ranked as one of the leading, if not the leading, experts in the department.
Strauss was not a typical Teuton in appearance. Irving thought he looked as much like an Irishman as a German, that he might have passed for either or a Swede. He was of medium height, somewhat slender of build, and had a smooth, round face, out of which shone two piercing black eyes--that is, they shone and pierced when the camouflage of heavy eyelashes and eyebrows was lifted. Otherwise one would have noticed almost everything else about him first.
There was no doubt in Irving's mind as to his identification, but he caught not even a surreptitious glance of recognition from the fellow at any time. He attended strictly and diligently to his own business, and the spy did likewise from the moment of his recognition of the man. He was determined his new associate should see no evidences of uneasiness in him as a result of this development.
Three days elapsed after Irving's last advancement to the card-catalog division, and still the conversations between him and his working companion were of the "yea, yea, nay, nay" character. Finally, however, the boy decided to attempt to draw Strauss into conversation. He did this by reference to humorous incidents in the war as brought out in cartoons and pointed paragraphs in Berlin newspaper and magazines.
He was somewhat surprised, and pleased also, to note that the "middle-aged man in civilian clothes" did not meet his advances with coldness or indifference. The fellow proved, indeed, to be much more polite than it had at first seemed possible. He appeared to enjoy Irving's palaver, for the youth was something of a wit, but preferred to listen rather than talk himself. Finally, however, he grew more communicative and manifested something of interest in his associate's personal affairs.
"They're telling some great stories about you around here," he said one day as they were preparing to go out for lunch. It was the first time they had quit work for the noon hour at the same time. Usually Irving went first and his companion went out after he returned, although Strauss was virtually "his own boss" and came and went as he chose.
"Yes, they're a bunch of gossips around here," Irving replied with a deprecating smile. "And you know what magnified stories gossips turn out when their tongues get busy."
Strauss smiled mysteriously and said:
"Oh, for that matter we are all gossips, even the quietest of us sometimes. All you have to do is to get us off on the subjects that we are well informed about and you'll soon find out how our tongues can wag at both ends."
"It's pretty hard for me to imagine your tongue wagging at both ends," Irving returned with more meaning in his mind than he expressed in his tone of voice.
"Why?"
"Because you seem to enjoy listening more than talking."
"I am engaged in a secret business," Strauss explained, lifting his shaggy brows slightly and darting a sharp glance at the other.
"Yes, so am I," Irving returned quickly. "But I like to talk."
"So I observe," said Strauss with veiled significance, which the boy did not try to penetrate.
"Just to be sociable," the spy added by way of explanation and to prevent the conversation from lagging.
But Strauss did not appear to be so talkatively eager. They were in the locker and wash room during most of this exchange of words, and nothing further was said between them until they were outside the building. The catalog expert then spoke first.
"Where do you eat?" he asked.
"Oh, any place," Irving replied. "I've been in two or three restaurants around here. There's a good one down in the next block."
"That suits me," said Strauss.
They walked along in silence half a square, and then the boy's mysterious companion put to him the most inquisitive query that the spy had listened to from this man since he became acquainted with him:
"When do you expect to go back to America?"
"Good!" Irving said to himself. "Sounds as if he's going to open up. Maybe I'll get something out of him after all."
He little dreamed how much that something was going to be.
"I don't know," he answered aloud. "I haven't received any orders yet."
"You'd better begin to find out then," was the expert's advice uttered in tones of startling sharpness. "I suppose you know it's up to you to decide that matter yourself."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so," Irving replied with a matter-of-factness of manner, which was anything but expressive of what was going on in his mind. The fact is, he was a little disturbed by the last remark of his companion.
"I'll have to undergo a surgical operation before I start back," he added.
"What's that?" inquired Strauss. "Were you wounded?"
"No," Irving replied. "But I must get rid of a mark of identification and go back as another person."
Strauss nodded a stoical sign of interest. They were now at the entrance of the restaurant for which they were headed, and the conversation ceased until they were seated at a table in one corner of the room and well removed from other lunchers. After they had been served they resumed their discussion of Irving's proposed operation in subdued tones.
"It must be a curious growth on your body that you should have to remove it in order to avoid identification," Strauss remarked as he spread a "knife-end" of war-time "butter" on a piece of black bread.
"No, it isn't a growth," Irving replied. "It's that cubist art picture on my arm."
"Oh, I see," Strauss grunted. "But," he added, "I don't just see how an operation there is going to do you much good. What are you going to have done--have your arm cut off?"
"No--have the skin peeled off."
"Ach," grunted the card-catalog expert. "That will leave a scar."
"Not if I have some other skin grafted in its place."
"Quite an idea. Where do you expect to get the other skin to graft there?"
"From some part of my body," Irving replied.
"Ja wo-ohl," said the other slowly, with a suggestion of doubt in his voice not contained in the phrase. "But that would leave a scar on your body, and if some sharp fellow tried to identify you as the person who brought that tattooed message ever here the scar might help him to explain the disappearance of the picture on your arm."
"Yes, that's true," Irving agreed. "But the chance of anything of that sort is small. Anyway, I'd have to find somebody who would give me a section of his skin four inches by two."
"There are thousands of patriotic Germans who are willing to give their lives for their country," reasoned the expert. "It ought not to be hard to find somebody who would give a few inches of skin."
"You are very logical," the spy observed. "Perhaps there's somebody in our office who would make such a sacrifice for his country."
"I'll do it myself," declared Strauss quickly.
In view of the fact that the latter appeared a few weeks previously to have regarded him with very grave suspicion, Irving had to admit to himself after this offer that the spy-cataloger was more of a mystery than ever.