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Would they go about only at night, or would they be wearing some sort of disguise? He could

be fairly sure they would be living among the workers; for they had never had much money,

and without jobs would probably be dependent upon worker comrades.

VI

How to get underground! Lanny could park his car, but he couldn't park his accent and

manners and fashionable little brown mustache. And above all, his clothes! He had no old ones;

and if he bought some in a secondhand place, how would he look going into a de luxe hotel? For

him to become a slum-dweller would be almost as hard as for a slum-dweller to become a

millionaire playboy.

He drove past the building where the workers' school had been. There was now a big swastika

banner hanging from a pole over the door; the Nazis had taken it for a district headquarters. No

information to be got there! So Lanny drove on to the neighborhood where the Schultzes had

lived. Six-story tenements, the least "slummy" workingclass quarter he had seen in Europe. The

people still stayed indoors as much as they could. Frost had come, and the window-boxes with

the flowers had been taken inside.

He drove past the house in which he had visited the Schultzes. Nothing to distinguish it from

any other house, except the number. He drove round the block and came again, and on a sudden

impulse stopped his car and got out and rang the Pfortner's bell. He had already made one

attempt to get something here, but perhaps he hadn't tried hard enough.

This time he begged permission to come in and talk to the janitor's wife, and it was grudgingly

granted. Seated on a wooden stool in a kitchen very clean, but with a strong smell of pork and

cabbage, he laid himself out to make friends with a suspicious woman of the people. He

explained that he was an American art dealer who had met an artist of talent and had taken

some of her work and sold it, and now he owed her money and was troubled because he was

unable to find her. He knew that Trudi Schultz had been an active Socialist, and perhaps for

that reason did not wish to be known; but he was an entirely non-political person, and neither

Trudi nor her friends had anything to fear from him. He applied what psy chology he possessed

in an effort to win the woman's confidence, but it was in vain. She didn't know where the

Schultzes had gone; she didn't know anybody who might know. The apartment was now

occupied by a laborer with a family of several children. "Nein," and then again "Nein, mein

Herr."

Lanny gave up, and heard the door of the Pfortnerin close behind him. Then he saw coming

down the stairway of the tenement a girl of eight or ten, in a much patched dress and a black

woolen shawl about her head and shoulders. On an impulse he said, quickly: "Bitte, wo wohnt

Frau Trudi Schultz?"

The child halted and stared. She had large dark eyes and a pale undernourished face; he thought

she was Jewish, and perhaps that accounted for her startled look. Or perhaps it was because she

had never seen his kind of person in or near her home. "I am an old friend of Frau Schultz," he

continued, following up his attack.

"I don't know where she lives," murmured the child.

"Can you think of anybody who would know? I owe her some money and she would be glad to

have it." He added, on an inspiration: "I am a comrade."

"I know where she goes," replied the little one. "It is the tailor-shop of Aronson, down that

way, in the next block."

"Danke schön" said Lanny, and put a small coin into the frail hand of the hungry-looking

little one.

He left his car where it stood and found the tailorshop, which had a sign in Yiddish as well

as German. He walked by on the other side of the street, and again regretted his clothes, so

conspicuous in this neighborhood. "Aronson" would probably be a Socialist; but maybe he

wasn't, and for Lanny to stroll in and ask for Trudi might set going some train of events which he

could not imagine. On the other hand, he couldn't walk up and down in front of the place

without being noticed—and those inside the shop no doubt had reasons for keeping watch.

What he did was to walk down to the corner and buy a Bonbon-Tüte and come back and sit on

a step across the street from the shop but farther on so that he was partly hidden by a railing.

Sitting down made him less tall, and holding a bag of candy and nibbling it certainly made him

less fashionable. Also it made him interesting to three children of the tenement; when he

shared his treasure, which they called Bom-bom, they were glad to have him there, and when he

asked their names, where they went to school, what games they played, they made shy

answers. Meanwhile he kept his eyes on the door of Aronson's tailorshop.

Presently he ventured to ask his three proletarian friends if they knew Trudi Schultz. They

had never heard of her, and he wondered if he was on a wild-goose chase. Perhaps it would be

more sensible to go away and write a note; not giving his name, just a hint: "The friend who

sold your drawings in Paris." He would add: "Take a walk in front of the enormous white

marble Karl der Dicke (the Stout), in the Siegesallee at twenty-two o'clock Sunday." With one-

third of his mind he debated this program, with another he distributed Leckereien to a

growing throng, and with the remaining third he watched the door of "Aronson:

Schneiderei, Reparatur."

VII

The door opened suddenly, and there stepped forth a young woman carrying a large paper

bundle. Lanny's heart gave a jump, and he handed the almost empty Tute to one of his little

friends, and started in the same direction as the woman. She was slender, not so tall as Lanny,

and dressed in a poor-looking, badly-faded brown coat, with a shawl over her head and

shoulders. He couldn't see her hair, and being somewhat behind her he couldn't see her face,

but he thought he knew her walk. He followed for a block or so, then crossed over and came up

behind her and to her side. Her face was paler and thinner than when he had last seen her; she

appeared an older woman; but there was no mistaking the finely chiseled, sensitive features,

which had so impressed him as revealing intelligence and character. "Wie geht's, Trudi?" he

said.

She started violently, then glanced at him; one glance, and she turned her face to the front

and walked steadily on. "I am sorry, mein Herr. You are making a mistake."

"But Trudi!" he exclaimed. "I am Lanny Budd." "My name is not Trudi and I do not know

you, sir." If Lanny had had any doubt as to her face, he would have been sure of her voice. It

had rather deep tones, and gave an impression of intense feelings which the calm features

seemed trying to repress. Of course it was Trudi Schultz. But she didn't want to know him, or be

known.

It was the first time Lanny had met a Socialist since he set out to save the Robin family. He

had kept away from them on purpose; Rick had warned him what he might be doing to his

own reputation, and now here he saw it! He walked by this devoted comrade's side, and spoke

quickly—for she might come to her destination and slam a door in his face, or turn away and

forbid him to follow her. "Trudi, please hear what I have to say. I came to Germany to try to

save the Robins. First I got Johannes out of jail, and I took him and his wife with Rahel and

the baby, out to France. Now I have come back to try to find Freddi and get him free."

"You are mistaken, sir," repeated the young woman. "I am not the person you think."

"You must understand that I have had to deal with people in authority here, and I couldn't do

it unless I took an attitude acceptable to them. I have no right to speak of that, but I know I

can trust you, and you ought to trust me, because I may need your help—I am a long way from

succeeding with poor Freddi. I have tried my best to find some of his old friends, but I can't get

a contact anywhere. Surely you must realize that I wouldn't be dropping my own affairs and

coming here unless I was loyal to him and to his cause. I have to trust somebody, and I put you

on your honor not to mention what I am telling you. I have just learned that Freddi is in

Dachau—"

She stopped in her tracks and gasped: "In Dachau!"

"He has been there for several months."

"How do you know it?"

"I am not free to say. But I am fairly certain."

She started to walk again, but he thought she was unsteady on her feet. "It means so much to

me," she said, "because Ludi and Freddi were arrested together."

"I didn't know that Ludi had been arrested. What has happened to him?"

"I have heard nothing from him or concerning him since the Nazis came and dragged them

both away from our home."

"What was Freddi doing there?"

"He came because he had been taken ill, and had to have some place to lie down. I knew it

was dangerous for him, but I couldn't send him away."

"The Nazis were looking for Ludi?"

"We had gone into hiding and were doing illegal work. I happened to be away from home at

the time and a neighbor warned me. The Nazis tore everything in the place to pieces, as if they

were maniacs. Why do you suppose they took Freddi to Dachau?"

"It's a long story. Freddi is a special case, on account of being a Jew, and a rich man's son."

It seemed to Lanny that the young woman was weak, perhaps from this shock, perhaps from

worry and fear, and not getting enough to eat. He couldn't suggest that they sit on some step,

because it would make them conspicuous. He said: "Let me carry that bundle."

"No, no," she replied. "It's all right."

But he knew that it wasn't, and in the land of his forefathers men did not let women carry the

loads. He said: "I insist," and thought that he was being polite when he took it out of her arms.

Then right away he saw why she hadn't wanted him to have it. It was wrapped like a bundle

of clothing, and was soft like such a bundle, but its weight was beyond that of any clothing ever

made. He tried to guess: did the bundle contain arms of some sort, or was it what the comrades

called "literature"? The latter was more in accord with Trudi's nature, but Irma had pointed

out that one couldn't count upon that. A small quantity of weapons might weigh the same as a

larger quantity of printed matter. Both would be equally dangerous in these times; and here

was Lanny with an armful of either or both!

VIII

They must keep on walking and keep on talking. He asked: "How far do you have to go?"

"Many blocks."

"I have a car, and I could get it and drive you."

"A car must not stop there, nor can I let you go to the place."

"But we ought to have a talk. Will you let Irma and me meet you somewhere and take you for

a drive? That way we can talk safely."

She walked for a space without speaking. Then she said: "Your wife is not sympathetic to our

ideas, Genosse Budd."

"She does not agree with us altogether," he admitted; "but she is loyal to me and to the

Robins."

"Nobody will be loyal in a time like this except those who believe in the class struggle." They

walked again in silence; then the young artist continued: "It is hard for me to say, but it is not

only my life that is at stake, but that of others to whom I am pledged. I would be bound to tell

them the situation, and I know they would not consent for me to meet your wife, or to let her

know about our affairs.' He was a bit shocked to discover what the comrades had been thinking

about his marriage; but he couldn't deny Trudi's right to decide this matter. "All right," he

said. "I won't mention you, and don't you mention me. There might be a spy among your

group, I suppose."

"It's not very likely, because our enemies don't wait long when they get information. They are

efficient, and take no chances. It is dangerous for you to be walking with me.'"

"I doubt if it could make serious trouble for an American; but it might cost me my chance to

save Freddi if it became known that I was in touch with Socialists."

"It is certainly unwise for us to meet."

"It depends upon what may happen. How can we find each other in case of need?"

"It would not do for you to come where I am. If I need to see you, I'll send you an unsigned

note. I read in the papers that you were staying at the Adlon."

"Yes, but I'm leaving tomorrow or the next day for Munich, where I'll be at the Vier

Jahreszeiten. Letters will be forwarded, however."

"Tell me, Genosse Lanny," she exclaimed, in a tense voice; "do you suppose there could be

any chance for you to find if Ludi is in Dachau?"

"I can't think of any way now; but something might turn up. I must have some way to get

word to you."

"Notice this corner ahead of us; remember it, and if you have any news for me, walk by here

on Sunday, exactly at noon. I'll be watching for you, and I'll follow you to your car. But don't

come unless you have something urgent."

"You mean that you will come to this corner every Sunday?"

"So long as there's any chance of your coming. When you leave Germany, I can write you to

Juan-les-Pins."

"All right," he said; and then, as a sudden thought came to him: "Do you need money?"

"I'm getting along all right."

But he knew that propagandists can always use money. He didn't take out his billfold, that

being a conspicuous action; he reached under his coat, and worked several bills into a roll, and

slipped them into the pocket of that well-worn brown coat. He was becoming expert in the art

of distributing illicit funds. What he gave her would be a fortune for Social-Democrats,

underground or above. He would leave it for her to explain how she had got it.

When he returned to the hotel, Irma said: "Well! You must have found some paintings that

interested you!"

He answered: "A couple of Menzels that I think are worth Zoltan's looking at. But the works