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to our sort."

"Göring is no fool and you can't make him one. Either you'd give him something he wants,

or you wouldn't get what you want. He has made that perfectly plain to you, and that's why

Freddi is still in Dachau—if he is."

"You think I have to leave him there?"

"You do, unless you can work out some kind of jailbreak."

"I'd have to pay somebody, Rick—even if it was only a jailer."

"There'd be no great harm in paying a jailer, because the amount would be small, and you'd

be undermining the Nazi discipline. Every prisoner who escapes helps to do that."

"You think I did wrong to help Johannes out?"

"I don't think that made much difference, because Johannes would have given up anyhow;

he's that sort of man. He thinks about himself and not about a cause."

"You wouldn't have done it in his place?"

"It's hard to say, because I've never been tortured and I can't be sure how I'd stand it. But

what I should have done is plain enough-hang myself in my cell, or open my veins, rather than

let Göring get hold of any foreign exchange to use in keeping his spies and thugs at work."

IV

Rick talked along the same line to Mama and Rahel; he was the only one who had the

courage to do it. He spoke gently, and with pity for their tears, but he told them that the only

way he knew of helping Freddi was by writing an anti-Nazi play. He bade them ask themselves

what Freddi would want them to do. There could be no doubt about the answer, for Freddi was

a devoted Socialist, and would rather die than give help to the enemies of his cause. Rahel

could see that, and said so. Mama could see it, also—but couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Consider this," persisted Rick. "Suppose that what Göring wanted of Freddi was to betray

some of his comrades. It's quite possible that that may be happening; and would he pay that

price for his freedom?"

"Of course he wouldn't," admitted the young wife.

"Well, money's the same thing. The Nazis want foreign exchange so they can buy weapons and

the means to make weapons. They want it so they can pay their agents and carry on their

propaganda in foreign lands. And in the end it adds up to more power for Nazism, and more

suffering for Jews and Socialists. These Hitlerites aren't through; they never can be through so

long as they live, because theirs is a predatory system; it thrives on violence, and would perish

otherwise. It has to have more and more victims, and if it gets money from you it uses the

money to get more money from the next lot. So whatever resources we have or can get, have

to go to fighting them, to making other people understand what Nazism is, what a menace it

represents to everything that you and I and Freddi stand for."

Rick spoke with eloquence, more than he usually permitted himself. The reason was that it was

a scene from his play. He was writing about people confronted with just such a cruel

decision. He didn't say: "Let's all put our money and our labors into get ting an anti-Nazi

play produced, and use the proceeds to start a paper to oppose the Nazis." But that was what

he had in mind, and Rahel knew that if her husband could speak to her, he would say: "Rick is

right."

But poor Mama! She was no Socialist, and couldn't make real to herself the task of saving all the

Jews in Germany. She kept silence, for she saw that Rick had convinced Rahel and Lanny; but

what gave her hope was a letter from Johannes, about to sail for Rio de Janeiro to try to work

up business for Budd Gunmakers. "I'm going to get some money again, and then I'll find a

way to get Freddi out." That was the sort of talk for a sensible Jewish mother!

V

The Riviera was full of refugees from Germany; all France was the same. Many of these

unfortunates tried to get hold of Lanny Budd, but he was afraid even to answer their letters.

He was still clinging to the idea that Göring might release Freddi; if not, Lanny was going

back to make some sort of effort. Therefore he had to be circumspect. Trying to play the spy

makes one spy-conscious. How could he be sure that any refugee who appealed to him for aid

might not have come from Göring, to find out how he was behaving, and whether he was a

person to be dealt with?

All this suited Irma completely. She didn't care what was the reason, so long as her husband

kept away from Reds and troublemakers. She and Beauty and Emily and Sophie consulted and

conspired to keep him busy and contented; to provide him with music and dancing and

sports, with interesting people to talk to, with Jerry Pendleton and the faithful Bub Smith to

go fishing. Best of all for the purpose was little Frances; Irma got a book on child psychology

and actually read every word of it, so as to be able to make intelligent remarks, and keep

Lanny interested in what his home had to offer. She made love to him assiduously; and of

course he knew what she was doing, and was touched by it. But he took Dachau with him

everywhere; at one of Emily's soirées musicales a strain of sad music brought tears to his eyes,

and then a pro-Nazi remark by one of the ladies of the haut monde made the blood rush to

his head and ruined his appetite for the delicate viands.

Early in February Robbie Budd arrived in Paris on a business trip. Irma thought that change

of scene would help, and she knew that the father would back her point of view; so they put

their bags into the car and arrived at the Crillon the evening before Robbie was due. Always a

pleasant thing to see that man of affairs, sound and solid, if a little too rotund and rosy. He was

taking his loss of the presidency of the company as just one of those things; what can't be cured

must be endured, and Robbie was getting along with the new head. A self-made man, well

informed on financial conditions, he had won everyone's respect; he didn't try to tell Robbie

how to sell goods in Europe, and had taken Robbie's word as to the capabilities of Johannes

Robin. Things were going on much as in the old days.

Robbie wanted to hear every detail of what had happened in Germany. It was important for

him to understand the Nazis, for they were trying to get credit from Budd's and from the

banking group which now had Budd's under its wing. Morals had nothing to do with it—

except as they bore on the question whether the Third Reich would meet its notes on time.

Robbie and the two young people discussed the problem of Freddi from every point of view,

and Robbie gave his approval of what had been done. He said no more in his son's presence,

but when he was alone with Irma he confirmed her idea that the Reds and Pinks of Germany

had brought their troubles upon themselves. Nor was he worried about Hitler; he said that all

Britain and France had to do was to stand together firmly, and let the Nazis devote their

energies to putting down the Red menace throughout eastern and central Europe.

Of course it was unfortunate that one of the victims of this conflict had to be a young Jewish

idealist. They must try to help the poor fellow, if only for the family's peace of mind. Robbie,

who usually thought of money first, made the guess that if Freddi really was in Dachau it was

because of Irma's stocks and bonds. Rumor invariably multiplied a rich person's holdings by

three or four, and sometimes by ten or twenty; the fat General doubtless was expecting to get

many millions in ransom. Robbie said that he himself would offer to go in and see what could

be done; but he didn't propose to see Irma plundered, so the best thing was to wait and let

Göring show his hand if he would. Irma appreciated this attitude, and wondered why Lanny

couldn't be as sensible.

One thing Robbie said he was unable to understand: the fact that they had never received a

single line of writing from Freddi in more than eight months. Surely any prisoner would be

permitted to communicate with his relatives at some time! Lanny told what he had learned

from the Kommandant of Dachau, that the inmates were permitted to write a few lines once a

week to their nearest relatives; but this privilege was withheld in certain cases. Robbie said:

"Even so, there are ways of smuggling out letters; and certainly there must be prisoners

released now and then. You'd think some one of them would have your address, and drop a

note to report the situation. It suggests to me that Freddi may be dead; but I don't say it to the

Robins."

VI

Hard times were producing in France the same effects they had produced in Germany; and

now the political pot boiled over, making a nasty mess. It was the "Stavisky case," centering

about a swindler of Russian-Jewish descent. "Too bad he had to be a Jew!" said Irma, and Lanny

wasn't sure whether she was being sympathetic or sarcastic. "Handsome Alex," as he was called,

had been engaged in one piece of financial jugglery after another, culminating in a tour de

force which sounded like comic opera—he had promoted an extensive issue of bonds for the

pawnshops of the town of Bayonne! Altogether he had robbed the French public of something

like a billion francs; and it was discovered that he had been indicted for a swindle eight or nine

years previously, and had succeeded in having his trial postponed no less than nineteen times.

Obviously this meant collusion with police and politicians; either he was paying them money or

was in position to blackmail them. When Robbie read the details he said it sounded exactly like

Chicago or Philadelphia.

Stavisky had gone into hiding with his mistress, and when the police came for him he shot

himself; at least, so the police said, but evidence began to indicate that the police had hushed

him up. The Paris newspapers, the most corrupt in the world, printed everything they could find

out and twenty times as much. Two groups were interested in exploiting the scandals: the

parties of the extreme right, the Royalists and Fascists, who wanted to overthrow the Republic

and set up their kind of dictatorship; and the Communists, who wanted a different kind. The

two extremes met, and while vowing the deadliest hatred, they made war on the same

parliamentary system.

Lanny couldn't afford to visit his Red uncle, but he invited Denis de Bruyne to dinner, and the

three Budds listened to the story from the point of view of a French Nationalist. The situation in

the de Bruyne family bore an odd resemblance to that between Robbie and his son. Denis

belonged to a respectable law-and-order party, and was distressed because his younger son had

joined the Croix de Feu, most active of the French Fascist groups. Now Charlot was off

somewhere with his fellows, conspiring to overpower the police and seize control of the

country's affairs. At any moment he and his organization might come out on the streets, and

there would be shooting; the unhappy father couldn't enjoy his dinner, and wanted Lanny to

find the crazy boy and try to bring him to his senses. Such were the duties you got in for when

you chose a lovely French lady for your amie!

Lanny said no; he had tried to influence both boys, and had failed, and now he was out of

politics; he had made a promise to his wife. He listened to the innermost secrets of la

république française, derived from first-hand observation. He learned about Daladier, the

baker's son, who had just become Premier, the fourth within a year; what interests had

subsidized his career, and what noble lady had become his mistress. He learned about Chiappe,

chief of the Paris police, a Corsican known as "the little Napoleon"—he was five feet three inches,

and had just been "fired" for being too intimate with Stavisky. He had known all the wholesale

crooks, the blackmailers and Jewish métèques of France, and had whispered their secrets to

his son-in-law, publisher of one of the great gutter-journals of Paris.

Lanny observed that the individuals who awakened the anger and disgust of Denis de Bruyne

were the climbers, those struggling for Wealth and power to which they had no valid claim. He

rarely had any serious fault to find with the mur d'argent, the members of the "two hundred

families" who had had wealth and power for a long time. They had to pay large sums of money

in these evil days, and the basis of Denis's complaint was not the corruption but the

increasing cost. The politicians demanded larger campaign funds, and at the same time kept

increasing taxes; their idea of economy was to cut the salaries of civil servants—which Denis had

discovered was bad for the taxicab business. To make matters worse, the taxicab drivers were on

strike! Robbie listened sympathetically, and when his friend got through scolding Daladier,

Robbie took a turn at Roosevelt.

VII

Next day Lanny escorted his wife to the Summer Fashion Show. This wasn't a public affair,

but one for the trade; an exhibition of the new styles which the manufacturers intended soon

to release. Irma was invited as a special honor by the fashion artist to whom she entrusted her

social destiny. Lanny went along because, if she endeavored to take an interest in his things,

it was only fair that he should do the same for hers. They sat in a hall with many potted palms,

gazing at a long ramp with dark blue curtains behind it; along the ramp paraded beautiful

and chic young women wearing summer costumes with a strong Japanese flavor, or note, or

atmosphere—the journalists groped about for a metaphor. There were bamboo buttons and

coolie hats; the ladies' gowns had fan-tails like Japanese goldfish, the afternoon costumes had

cut sleeves like kimonos, and the evening wraps had designs resembling Japanese flower

prints.

Among the favored guests at this show was an old friend of Lanny's; Olivie Hellstein, now

Madame de Broussailles, very lovely daughter of Jerusalem whom Emily had picked out as a

proper match for Lanny. That had been some eight years ago, and now Olivie had three or four

children, and had become what you called "maternal," a kinder word than "plump." Words

which have an unpleasant connotation change frequently in the best society, where people try