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The orders were changed, and the young staff officer entered with amusement into the
enterprise of making his friend presentable by the magic of modern hotel service. While the
guest bathed himself, a valet whisked his clothes away to sponge and press them, and a bellboy
sped to the nearest haberdashers for a shirt, tie, and handkerchief. A barber came and shaved
him—and collected no gray hairs. In half an hour by the Oberleutnant's watch—Lanny had none—
he was again the picture of a young man of fashion, ready to meet all the world and his wife.
It was truly comical, when they were motored to the official residence of the Minister-
Präsident of Prussia and escorted up to his private apartments. This mighty personage had all
the sartorial appurtenances of his office: blue trousers with a broad white stripe; a coat of lighter
blue with a white belt and broad white sash from one shoulder crossing his chest; numerous gold
cords and stars, epaulets and insignia of his rank—but it was a blazing hot day in mid-July, and
all this honorificabilitudinitatibus had become intolerable to a fat man. He had it hung on a
chair near-by, and was sitting at his desk in his shorts and that large amount of soft white skin
with which nature had endowed him. Beads of perspiration stood out on the skin, and before
Lanny's mind flashed the vision of a Jewish banker. Impossible to keep from imagining this still
larger mass of flesh and fat laid out on a blood-soaked and slimy bench, bottom up!
II
It was the General's intention to take Lanny Budd's misadventure as a comic opera
divertissement in the midst of very grave business; and it was up to Lanny to be a good sport
and do the same. "Ja aber, mein lieber Herr Budd!" cried Seine Exzellenz, and caught Lanny's
hand in a grip that showed he was by no means all fat. "Was ist Ihnen denn passiert?"— he
insisted upon hearing all about a playboy's misadventures. "Were you afraid?" he wanted to
know; and Lanny said: "Wait until your turn comes, Exzellenz, and see if you're not afraid."
That wasn't so funny. The great man replied: "You had the misfortune to get caught in the
traffic at a very busy hour. We have some wild fellows in our party, and it was necessary to
teach them a lesson. I think they have learned it thoroughly."
Lanny had done a bit of thinking while he was in the bathtub at the hotel. He would never
trust any Nazi again. It seemed unlikely that the head of the Prussian state had no information
as to what had been happening to one who claimed to be his friend; almost incredible that his
efficient secret police had failed to send him any report during the past two weeks. A thousand
times more likely that there had been some purpose in what had befallen an American visitor; also
in this sudden change of front, this explosion of friendliness and familiarity. Last-minute rescues
belong in melodramas, where they are no accidents, but have been carefully contrived. Lanny
had begun to suspect this particularly hair-raising denouement.
The Minister-Präsident of Prussia didn't keep him long in suspense. There was a large stack
of papers on his desk and he was obviously a busy fat man. "Jawohl, Herr Budd!" he said.
"You had the opportunity of studying our penal institutions at first hand; also our methods of
dealing with Jew Schieber! You can testify that they are effective."
"I had no opportunity to observe the outcome, Exzellenz."
"I will see that you are informed about it, if you so desire. Do you have any idea who that
Jew was?"
"It so happens that I had met him in Berlin society."
"Indeed? Who was he?"
"His name is Solomon Hellstein."
"Ach! Our w eltberühmter Shylock! You will indeed have an interesting story to tell the
outside world."
Lanny thought he saw a hint. "You will remember, Exzellenz, that you asked me to say nothing
to the outside world about the case of Johannes Robin. Fourteen months have passed, and still I
have not done so."
"I have made a note of the fact, Herr Budd, and appreciate your good judgment. But now
there is a quite different set of circumstances. We have a saying in German: Es hängt ganz
davon ab."
Lanny supplied the English: "It all depends."
"Also, Herr Budd! Would you be greatly embarrassed if I should suggest that you narrate the
story of what you saw this morning?"
"I should be somewhat puzzled, Exzellenz."
"It is a bright idea which occurs to me. Are you still interested in that Jude Itzig of yours?" This
is a German name of jeering derived from the Hebrew word for Isaac, which is Yitzchock.
"If you mean the son of Johannes Robin, I am still deeply interested, Exzellenz."
"I have recently learned that he is in the Lager at Dachau. Would you like to have him turned
loose?"
"Aber naturlich, Exzellenz."
"Na, also! I offer him to you in exchange for a small service which you may render me. Go to
Paris and tell the members of the Hellstein family what you have seen happening to their Berlin
representative. You know them, possibly?"
"It happens that I know them rather well."
"I will explain to you: This Dreck-Jude has succeeded in shipping a fortune out of Germany,
and we were not so fortunate as in the case of Robin, we do not know where the money is. The
family is scattered all over Europe, as you know. We have no claim to their money, but we intend
to have Solomon's, every mark of it— if we have to flay him alive."
"You wish me to tell them that?"
"They know it already. All you have to tell is what you saw with your own eyes. Make it as
realistic as you know how."
"Am I to mention that you have asked me to tell them?"
"If you do that, they may suspect your good faith. It will be better not to refer to me. Simply
tell what happened to you and what you saw."
"And then, Exzellenz?"
"Then I will release your pet Jew."
"How am I to let you know that I have done my part?"
"I have my agents, and they will report to me. The story will be all over Paris in a few hours.
It will be a good thing, because our rich Schieber have got the idea that we dare not touch
them, and they think they can bleed Germany to death."
"I get your point, Exzellenz. How will I know where I am to get Freddi Robin?"
"Leave your Paris address with Furtwaengler, and within a day or two after you have talked
with the Hellsteins he will telephone you and arrange to ship your precious Itzig to the French
border. Is that according to your wishes?"
"Quite so, Exzellenz. I can see no reason why I shouldn't comply with your request."
"Abgemacht! It is a deal. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Herr Budd; and if, after you think
it over, you wish to do more business with me, come and see me at any time."
"Danke schon, Exzellenz. I will bear your suggestion in mind and perhaps avail myself of the
opportunity."
"Dem Mutigen ist das Glück hold!" The fat commander had risen from his chair to speed his
parting guest, and now favored him with a staggering slap upon the back, and a burst of
merriment which left the visitor uncertain whether he was being laughed with or at.
III
So Lanny went out from the presence of this half-naked freebooter, and was courteously
driven back to his hotel by the young staff officer. Evidently Lanny's papers had been brought
along on the trip from Munich, for Furtwaengler put his passport and his six thousand marks into
his hands; also an exit permit. He promised to have Lanny's clothes and other belongings
forwarded to Juan. The American didn't lay any claim to the money which had been found on
the body of Hugo Behr!
His car had been delivered to the hotel, and the Oberleutnant assured him that it had been
properly serviced and supplied with a tank full of petrol. They parted warm friends; and Lanny
stayed in Berlin only long enough to pay his hotel bill and send telegrams to Rahel in Juan, to
his father in Newcastle, to his mother and his wife in England: "Leaving for Crillon Paris hopeful
of success notify friends all well." He dared say no more, except to ask Irma to meet him in Paris.
He knew that they must have been in an agony of dread about him, but he wouldn't make any
explanations until he was out of Germany and had got Freddi out. There would be a chance
that an old-style Teutonic freebooter might get some additional information and change his
mind. The Hellstein family in Paris might "come across," or the Gestapo in Munich might
unearth the story of the attempted jailbreak.
Or had they already done so, and had the Minister-Präsident of Prussia tactfully refrained from
mentioning the subject? No chance to fathom the mind of that master of intrigue, that
wholesale killer of men! At some time in the course of the past two weeks of madness and
murder he had found time to take note that he had an American playboy in his clutches, and to
figure out a way to make use of him. Lanny shook with horror every time he recalled those
minutes in the torture-chamber; nor was the experience a particle less dreadful because he now
perceived that it had been a piece of stageplay, designed to get his help in extorting some
millions of marks, possibly some scores of millions of marks, from a family of Jewish bankers.
IV
Lanny didn't feel very much like driving, but he didn't want to leave his car to the Nazis, so he
stuck it out, and drove steadily, with a mind full of horrors, not much relieved by hope. The Nazi
General, who had cheated him several times, might do it again; and anyhow, Lanny had come to a
state of mind where he wasn't satisfied to get one Jewish friend out of the clutches of the
terror. He wanted to save all the Jews; he wanted to wake up Europe to the meaning of this
moral insanity which had broken out in its midst. The gemütliche German Volk had fallen into
the hands of gangsters, the most terrible in all history because they were armed with modern
science. Lanny echoed the feelings of the "simple S.A. man" of whom Goebbels had told, who had
wanted the walls of Rohm's bedroom to fall down, so that the German people might see. Lanny
wanted the walls of that torture chamber to fall down, so that all the world might see.
He crossed the border into Belgium in the small hours of the morning and went to a hotel
and had a sleep, full of tormenting dreams. But when he awakened and had some breakfast, he
felt better, and went to the telephone. There was one person he simply couldn't wait to hear
from, and that was Jerry Pendleton in Cannes —if he was in Cannes. Lanny's guess proved correct,
and his friend's voice was the most welcome of sounds.
"I am in Belgium," said the younger man. "I'm all right, and I just want a few questions
answered—with no names."
"O.K.," sang Jerry.
"Did you see our friend that evening?"
"I saw him brought out; but nobody came for him."
"What happened then?"
"I suppose he was taken back; I had no way to make sure. There was nothing I could do about
it. I was tempted to try, but I didn't see how I could get away without a car."
"I was afraid you might have tried. It's all right. I have a promise and have some hopes."
"I was worried to death about you. I went to the American authority and reported your
absence. I went again and again, and I think he did everything he could, but he was put off with
evasions."
"It was serious, but it's all right now. What did you do then?"
"I couldn't think of anything to do for you, so I came out to report to the family. They told me
to come home and wait for orders, and I did that. Gee, kid, but I'm glad to hear your voice! Are
you sure you're all right?"
"Not a scratch on me. I'm leaving for Paris."
"I just had a wire from your wife; she's on the way to meet you at the Crillon. She's been
scared half out of her wits. There's been a lot in the papers, you know."
"Thanks, old sport, for what you did."
"I didn't do a damn thing. I never felt so helpless."
"It's quite possible you saved me. Anyhow, you've got an interesting story coming to you. So
long!"
V
The traveler reached Paris about sunset, and surprised Irma in the suite she had taken. She
looked at him as if he were a ghost; she seemed afraid to touch him, and stood staring, as if
expecting to find him scarred or maimed. He said: "I'm all here, darling," and took her in his arms.
She burst into tears. "Oh, Lanny, I've been living in hell for two weeks!" When he started to
kiss her, she held off, gazing at him with the most intense look he had ever seen on her usually
calm face. "Lanny, promise me—you must promise me—you will never put me through a thing
like this again!"
That was the way it was between them; their argument was resumed even before their love. It
was going to be that way from now on. He didn't want to make any promises; he didn't want to
talk about that aspect of the matter—and she didn't want to talk about anything else. For two
weeks she had been imagining him dead, or even worse, being mutilated by those gangsters.
She had had every right to imagine it, of course; he couldn't tell her that she had been foolish or
unreasonable; in fact he couldn't answer her at all. She wanted to hear his story, yet she didn't
want to hear it, or anything else, until her mind had been put at rest by a pledge from him that
never, never would he go into Germany, never, never would he have anything to do with that
hateful, wicked thing called the class struggle, which drove men and women to madness and
crime and turned civilized life into a nightmare.
He tried his best to soothe her, and to make her happy, but it couldn't be done. She had been
thinking, and had made up her mind. And he had to make up his mind quickly. For one thing, he
