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notion that you had no right to money; that having got it, you must look down upon it, spurn

it, and thwart the very purposes for which it existed, the reasons why your forefathers had

worked so hard! If that was not madness, who could find anything that deserved the name?

III

All social engagements were called off while this duel was fought out. Irma said that she had a

bad headache; but as this affliction had not been known to trouble her hitherto, the rumor

spread that the Irma Barneses were having a quarrel; everybody tried to guess what it could be

about, but nobody succeeded. Only three persons were taken into the secret; Rick, and the

mothers of the two quarrelers. Rick said: "I wish I could help you, old chap; but you know

I'm a marked man in Germany; I have written articles." Lanny said: "Of course."

As for Fanny Barnes, she considered it her duty to give Lanny a lecture on the wrongness of

deserting his family on account of any Jew or all of them. Lanny, in turn, considered it his

duty to hear politely all that his mother-in-law had to say. He knew it wasn't any good

talking to her about "causes"; he just said: "I'm sorry, Mother, but I feel that I have incurred

obligations, and I have to repay them. Do what you can to keep Irma cheerful until I get

back." It was a rather solemn occasion; he might not come back, and he had a feeling that his

mother-in-law would rind that a not altogether intolerable solution of the problem.

As for Beauty, she wasn't much good in this crisis; the sheer horridness of it seemed to

paralyze her will. She knew her boy's feeling for the Robin boys, and that it couldn't be

overcome. She knew also that he suspected her concern about Irma's happiness as being not

altogether disinterested. The mother dared not say what was in the deeps of her heart, her

fear that Lanny might lose his ultra-precious wife if he neglected her and opposed her so

recklessly. And of all places to leave her—on the doorstep of Lord Wickthorpe! Beauty developed a

crise des nerfs, with a real headache, and this didn't diminish the gossip and speculation.

Meanwhile, Lanny went ahead with his preparations. He wrote Rahel to have a photograph

of Freddi reduced to that small size which is used on passports, and to airmail it to him at

once; he had a reason for that, which she was at liberty to guess. He wrote Jerry Pendleton to

hold himself in readiness for a call to bring a camion to Germany and return the Detaze

paintings to their home. That would be no hardship, because the tourist season was over and

Cerise could run the office.

Lanny gave his friend Zoltan a check covering a good part of the money he had in the

Hellstein banks in Berlin and Munich; Zoltan would transfer the money to his own account, and

thus the Nazis wouldn't be able to confiscate it. In case Lanny needed the money, he could

telegraph and Zoltan could airmail him a check. The ever discreet friend asked no questions, and

thus would be able to say that he knew nothing about the matter. Lanny talked about a

picture deal which he thought he could put through in Munich, and Zoltan gave him advice

on this. Having been pondering all these matters for more than a year, Lanny was thoroughly

prepared.

When it came to the parting, Lanny's young wife and Lanny's would-be-young mother both

broke down. Both offered to go with him; but he said No. Neither approved his mission, and

neither's heart would be in the disagreeable task. He didn't tell the plain truth, which was

that he was sick of arguments and excitements; it is one of the painful facts about marital

disputes that they cause each of the disputants to grow weary of the sound of the other's voice,

and to count quiet and the freedom to have one's own way as the greatest of life's blessings.

Lanny believed that he could do this job himself, and could think better if he didn't have

opposition. He said: "No, dear," and "No, darling; I'm going to be very careful, and. it won't

take long."

IV

So, bright and early one morning, Margy Petries's servants deposited his bags in his car, and

not without some moisture in his eyes and some sinkings in his inside, he set out for the ferry

to Calais, whose name Queen Mary had said was written on her heart, and which surely

existed as some sort of scar on Lanny's. He went by way of Metz and Strasbourg, for the fewer

countries one entered in unhappy Europe, the less bother with visas and customs

declarations. How glorious the country seemed in the last days of June; and how pitiful by

contrast that Missgeburt of nature which had developed the frontal lobes of its brain so

enormously, in order to create new and more dreadful ways of destroying millions of other

members of its own species! "Nature's insurgent son" had cast off chain-mail and dropped

lances and battle-axes, only to take up bombing-planes and Nazi propaganda.

The blood of millions of Frenchmen and Germans had fertilized this soil and made it so

green and pleasant to Lanny's eyes. He knew that in all these copses and valleys were hidden

the direful secrets of the Maginot Line, that series of complicated and enormously expensive

fortifications by which France was counting upon preventing another German invasion. Safe

behind this barricade, Frenchmen could use their leisure to maim and mangle other

Frenchmen with iron railings torn from a beautiful park. Where Lanny crossed the Rhine was

where the child Marie Antoinette had come with her train of two or three hundred vehicles,

on her long journey from Vienna to marry the Dauphin of France. All sorts of history around

here, but the traveler had no time to think about it; his mind was occupied with the history he

was going to make.

Skirting the edge of the Alps, with snow-dad peaks always in view, he came to the city of

Munich on its little river Isar. He put up at a second-class hotel, for he didn't want newspaper

reporters after him, and wanted to be able to put on the suit of old clothes which he had

brought, and be able to walk about the city, and perhaps the town of Dachau, without

attracting any special attention. At the Polizeiwache he reported himself as coming for the

purpose of purchasing works of art; his first act after that was to call upon a certain Baron von

Zinszollern whom he had met at the Detaze show and who had many paintings in his home. This

gentleman was an avowed Nazi sympathizer, and Lanny planned to use him as his "brown

herring," so to speak. In case of exposure this might sow doubts and confusion in Nazi minds,

which would be so much to the good.

Lanny went to this art patron's fine home and looked at his collection, and brought up in his

tactful way whether any of the works could be bought; he intimated that the prices asked were

rather high, but promised to cable abroad and see what he could do. He did cable to Zoltan, and

to a couple of customers in America, and these messages would be a part of his defense in case

of trouble. All through his stay in Munich he would be stimulating the hopes of a somewhat

impoverished German aristocrat, and diminishing the prices of his good paintings.

V

Upon entering Germany the conspirator had telephoned to Hugo Behr in Berlin, inviting

that young Nazi to take the night train to Munich. Lanny was here on account of pictures, he

said, and would show his friend some fine specimens. Hugo had understood, and it hadn't

been necessary to add, "expenses paid." The young sports director had doubtless found some

use for the money which Lanny had paid him, and would be pleased to render further services.

He arrived next morning, going to a different hotel, as Lanny had directed. He telephoned,

and Lanny drove and picked him up on the street. A handsome young Pomeranian, alert and

with springy step, apple-cheeked and with wavy golden hair, Hugo was a walk ing advertisement

of the pure Nordic ideal. In his trim Brownshirt uniform, with insignia indicating his important

function, he received a salute from all other Nazis, and from many civilians wishing to keep on

the safe side. It was extremely reassuring to be with such a man in Germany—although the "Heil

Hitlers" became a bit monotonous after a while.

Lanny drove his guest out into the country, where they could be quiet and talk freely. He

encouraged the guest to assume that the invitation was purely out of friendship; rich men can

indulge their whims like that, and they do so. Lanny was deeply interested to know how

Hugo's movement for the reforming of the Nazi party was coming along, and as the reformer

wanted to talk about nothing else, they drove for a long time through the valleys of the Alpine

foothills. The trees were in full splendor, as yet untouched by any signs of wear. A beautiful

land, and Lanny's head was full of poetry about it. Die Fenster auf, die Herzen auf! Geschwinde,

geschwinde!

But Hugo's thoughts had no trace of poetic cheerfulness. His figure of a young Hermes was

slumped in the car seat, and his tone was bitter as he said: "Our Nazi revolution is kaput. We

haven't accomplished a thing. The Führer has put himself completely into the hands of the

reactionaries. They tell him what to do—it's no longer certain that he could carry out his own

program, even if he wanted to. He doesn't see his old friends any more, he doesn't trust them.

The Reichswehr crowd are plotting to get rid of the Stormtroopers altogether."

"You don't really mean all that, Hugo!" Lanny was much distressed.

"Haven't you heard about our vacation?"

"I only entered Germany yesterday."

"All the S.A. have been ordered to take a vacation during the month of July. They say we've

been overworked and have earned a rest. That sounds fine; but we're not permitted to wear

our uniforms, or to carry our arms. And what are they going to do while we're disarmed? What

are we going to find when we come back?"

"That looks serious, I admit."

"It seems to me the meaning is plain. We, the rank and file, have done our job and they're

through with us. We have all been hoping to be taken into the Reichswehr; but no, we're not

good enough for that. Those officers are Junkers, they're real gentlemen, while we're common

trash; we're too many, two million of us, and they can't afford to feed us or to train us, so we

have to be turned off—and go to begging on the streets, perhaps."

"You know, Hugo, Germany is supposed to have only a hundred thousand in its regular

army. Mayn't it be that the Führer doesn't feel strong enough to challenge France, and

Britain on that issue?"

"What was our revolution for, but to set us free from their control? And how can we ever

become strong, if we reject the services of the very men who have made National Socialism?

We put these leaders in power—and now they're getting themselves expensive villas and big

motor-cars, and they're afraid to let us of the rank and file even wear our uniforms! They talk

of disbanding us, because the Reich can't afford our magnificent salaries of forty-two pfennigs

a day."

"Is that what you get?"

"That is what the rank and file get. What is that in your money?"

"About ten cents."

"Does that sound so very extravagant?"

"The men in our American army get about ten times that. Of course both groups get food and

lodgings free."

"Pretty poor food for the S.A.; and besides, there are all the levies, which take half what

anybody earns. Our lads were made to expect so much, but now all the talk is that the Reich

is so poor. The propaganda line has changed; Herr Doktor Goebbels travels over the land

denouncing the Kritikaster and the Miessmacher and the Nörgler and the Besserwisser—"

Hugo gave a long list of the depraved groups who dared to suggest that the Nazi Regierung

was anything short of perfect. "In the old days we were told there would be plenty, because

we were going to take the machinery away from the Schieber and set it to work for the benefit

of the common folk. But now the peasants have been made into serfs, and the workingman

who asks for higher pay or tries to change his job is treated as a criminal. Prices are going up

and wages falling, and what are the people to do?"

"Somebody ought to point these things out to the Führer," suggested Lanny.

"Nobody can get near the Führer. Göring has taken charge of his mind—Göring, the

aristocrat, the friend of the princes and the Junker landlords and the gentlemen of the steel

Kartell. They are piling up bigger fortunes than ever; I'm told that Göring is doing the same—

and sending the money abroad where it will be safe."

"I've heard talk about that in Paris and London," admitted Lanny; "and on pretty good

authority. The money people know what's going on."

VI

They were high up in the foothills, close to the Austrian border. Auf die Berge will ich

steigen, wo die dunkeln Tannen ragen! The air was crystal clear and delightfully cool, but it

wasn't for the air that Lanny had come, nor yet on account of Heine's Harzreise. They sat on an

outdoor platform of a little inn looking up a valley to a mountain that was Austria; Lanny saw

that the slopes about him were not too precipitous, nor the stream in the valley too deep. He

remarked to his companion: "There's probably a lot of illegal traffic over these mountain

paths."

"Not so much as you might think," was the reply. "You don't see the sentries, but they're

watching, and they shoot first and ask questions afterward."

"But they can't do much shooting on a stormy night."

"They know where the paths are, and they guard them pretty closely. But I've no doubt some

of the mountaineers take bribes and share with them. The Jews are running money out of

Germany by every device they can think of. They want to bleed the country to death."

That didn't sound so promising; but Lanny had to take a chance somewhere. When they

were back in the car, safe from prying ears, he said: "You know, Hugo, you're so irritated with