for years, and now the fight was in the open. Meanwhile the first vice-president was in charge
—"holding the sponge," as Robbie phrased it. He was Esther Budd's brother, son of the
president of the First National Bank of Newcastle. "The thing the old gentleman always
dreaded," wrote Robbie; "the banks are taking us over!" Lanny knew this was said playfully,
for Robbie and "Chassie" Remsen got along reasonably well, and the two couples played bridge
one evening every week.
What really worried Robbie was the possibility of some Wall Street outfit "barging in."
Budd's had been forced to borrow from one of the big insurance companies; it was either that or
the Reconstruction Finance Corporation, which meant putting yourself at the mercy of the
politicians. Robbie was in a dither over what the new administration was doing; Roosevelt had
had three months in which to show his hand, and apparently the only thing he knew was to
borrow money and scatter it like a drunken sailor. Of course that was just putting off the
trouble, throwing the country into debt which the future would have to pay; incidentally it
meant teaching everybody to come to Washington—"like hogs to the trough," said the munitions
salesman, who chose the most undignified metaphors whenever he referred to his country's
governmental affairs. Everything which gave power to the politicians meant debts, taxes, and
troubles.
But Robbie didn't go into that subject now; he had his own immediate problems. "If only I
could raise the cash to buy some Budd stock that I know of, I could settle the matter of control.
Tell our friend that I want to hear from him the moment he has time to spare. I can make him
a proposition which he will find advantageous." This had been written before the receipt of an
unsigned note in which Lanny conveyed the news that "our friend" was being separated from
every dollar he owned in the world. Poor Johannes—and poor Robbie!
The ever-discreet father didn't need any warning to be careful what he wrote about matters
in Germany. His letter was a model of vagueness. He said: "There is a great deal of new business
being done in Europe this year, and I ought to be there getting contracts. Once our problems at
home are settled, I'll get busy." Lanny knew what this meant—the rearmament of Germany was
beginning, and what the Nazis couldn't yet manufacture for themselves they would buy through
intermediaries in Holland, Switzerland, Sweden. The factory chimneys of Newcastle would begin
to smoke again—and it wouldn't mean a thing to Robbie Budd that he was putting power into
the hands of Hitler, Göring, and Goebbels. It was the salesman's first axiom that all European
nations were equally bad, and that whether the jaguar, the leopard, or the tiger came out on
top was of no concern to anybody outside the jungle.
Lanny read this letter to his wife, who said: "Don't you think it might be a good idea for me to
help your father?"
"You know, dear," he answered, "I have never been willing to exploit my marriage."
"Yes, but be sensible. I own a lot of stocks and bonds, and why shouldn't I exchange some of
them for Budd's?"
"Your father chose those investments very shrewdly, Irma. Some of them are still paying
large dividends, and Budd's isn't paying any."
"Yes, but the prices seem to find their level, according to the earnings." Irma had been
putting her mind on her financial affairs ever since she had got that terrific jolt in the panic.
"If we could get Budd stock at its present price, wouldn't it be safe to hold?"
"It wouldn't worry you to be financing munitions?"
"Why should it? Somebody's going to do it."
So there it was: everybody was "sensible" but Lanny. If the Nazis wanted automatics and
machine guns, there were many makes on the market, and why shouldn't Budd's get the
business as well as Vickers or Bofors or Skoda or Schneider-Creusot? Irma settled the matter.
"When we get this business out of the way, we'll run over to New York and get Robbie and
Uncle Joseph together and see what can be worked out."
Lanny said: "It's very kind of you." He knew it would have been unkind of him to say
anything else.
II
A letter from Kurt, begging them to drive to Stubendorf in this very lovely season of the year.
Kurt had no car, and couldn't afford the luxury of hopping about; but Seine Hochgeboren had
told him that any time Irma and Lanny would come, the Schloss was at their disposal. Lanny
hadn't told Kurt about Freddi. Now he was discussing whether to do it, and what to say, when
the telephone rang, and he heard the voice of Oberleutnant Furtwaengler: "Herr Budd, I am
happy to inform you that the government is prepared to release Johannes Robin."
Lanny's heart gave a thump. "That is certainly good news to me, Herr Oberleutnant."
"It is still your plan to drive him and his family to Belgium?"
"Whenever I am free to do so."
"You have the other members of the family with you?"
"I know where they are—at least, all but one of them. I am sorry to report that I have not
heard from the son, Freddi, for a long time."
"You have no idea where he has gone?"
"Not the slightest."
"Why didn't you let me know this?"
"I have been thinking that I would surely hear from him, and I didn't want to bother you or
the Minister-Präsident. I was sure that if he was a prisoner of the government, he would be
released along with his father."
"I cannot say anything about it, because I do not know the circumstances. An investigation will
have to be made. What do you wish to do about the others in the meantime?"
"I wish to take them out as soon as I am permitted to do so. I can come back for Freddi if you
find him."
"There would be no need for you to come unless you wished. We will surely send him out if
we find him."
"Very well. Shall I call at the Polizeiprasidium for Johannes?"
"That will be satisfactory."
"You understand that we wish very much to avoid newspaper reporters, especially the foreign
correspondents. For that reason it would be wise to leave as quickly as possible."
"We shall be pleased to co-operate with you to that end. We have the passports and exit
permits ready."
"Does that include the visas for Belgium?"
"Everything has been foreseen. We do things that way in Germany."
"I know," said Lanny. "It is one of your great virtues."
"I bid you farewell, Herr Budd, and hope to have the pleasure of seeing you when you again
visit Berlin."
"The same to you, Herr Oberleutnant. I am grateful for your many courtesies through this
somewhat trying affair."
"Not at all, Herr Budd. Allow me to say that your handling of the matter has been most
exemplary, and Seine Exzellenz wishes me to assure you of his sincere appreciation."
So they buttered each other, and clicked heels and bowed and scraped over the telephone;
when Lanny hung up, he turned to his wife and said: "Chuck your things into the bags and
we'll get going!"
He hastened to call the home of Rahel's parents, and she herself answered. "Good news," he
said. "Papa is to be released at once and I am going to get him at the prison. Is Mama far from
you?"
"A ten-minute drive."
"Call a taxi, take the baby and your bags, pick up Mama, and come to the Hotel Adlon as
quickly as you can. Irma will be waiting for you. We are leaving at once. Is that all clear?"
"Yes; but what—" He hung up quickly, for he knew she was going to ask about Freddi, and he
didn't care to impart this news. Let Mama have the painful duty!
III
Lanny drove to the great red brick building on the Alexanderplatz. Many who entered there
had not come out as quickly as they had hoped; but he with his magical American passport
would take a chance. He discovered that the well-known German Ordnung was in operation;
the officer at the desk had received full instructions. "Einen Moment, Herr Budd," he said,
politely. "Bitte, setzen Sie sich."
He gave an order, and in a few minutes Johannes was brought in. Apparently he had been told
what was going to happen; he had got a shave, and appeared interested in life again. The odds
and ends of property which he had had upon his person were restored to him; he signed a
receipt, bade a courteous Lebewohl to his jailers, and walked briskly out to the car.
Lanny had the painful duty of knocking this newborn happiness flat. "Painful news, my
friend. Freddi has been missing for two weeks, and we have no idea what has become of him."
The poor father sat in the car with tears streaming down his cheeks while Lanny told about the
last meeting with Freddi, the arrangements which had been made, and the dead silence which
had fallen. Lanny couldn't bear to look at him—and had a good excuse, having to drive through
busy traffic.
He explained his decisions, and the heartbroken father replied: "You did what was best. I
shall never be able to tell you how grateful I am."
"I'm only guessing," Lanny continued; "but I think the chances are that Göring has Freddi
and intends to keep him until the scandal will no longer be news. Our only chance is to comply
strictly with the terms of the understanding. It seems to me the part of wisdom for us to tell no
more than we have to, even to the family. The less they know, the less trouble they will have in
keeping secrets."
"You are right," agreed the other.
"I think we should say we feel certain that Freddi is a hostage, and that, since he is some day
to be released, he is not apt to be mistreated. That will make it easier for them all to get over the
shock."
"I will tell them that I have had an intimation to that effect," said Johannes. "Anything to get
Rahel quieted down. Otherwise she might insist upon staying. We must take her at all hazards,
for she can do nothing here."
When they got to the hotel they found that Mama had already imparted the news, Irma had
confirmed it, and the young wife had had her first spell of weeping. It wasn't so bad, for she
had made up her mind for some days that the worst must have happened. Her father-in-law's
kind "intimation" helped a little; also Lanny's promise to keep up the search. The determination
of the others to get her and her child out of Naziland was not to be resisted.
It wasn't exactly a fashionable autoload which departed from under the marquee of the
Adlon Hotel. The magnificent uniformed personage who opened the car doors was used to seeing
independent young Americans driving themselves, but rarely had he seen three dark-eyed Jews
and a child crowded into the back seat of a Mercedes limousine about to depart for foreign
lands. Both Lanny and Irma were determined to finish this job, and not let their periled friends
out of sight until they were safe. In the breast pocket of Lanny's tan linen suit were stowed not
merely the passports of himself and wife, but a packet of documents which had been delivered by
messenger from the headquarters of Minister-Präsident Göring, including four passports and
four exit permits, each with a photograph of the person concerned. Lanny realized that the
government had had possession of all the papers in the Robin yacht and palace. He
remembered Göring's promise of a "kick in the tail," but hoped it was just the barrack-room
exuberance of a Hauptmann of the German Air Force.
The family were not too badly crowded in that rear seat. The three adults had each lost
weight during the past weeks; and as for luggage, they had the suitcases they had carried away
after Johannes's arrest; that was all they owned in the world. As for Little Johannes, it was no
trouble taking turns holding him in their laps; each would have been glad to hold him the
entire time, until they had got him to some place where the cry of Juda verrecke was unknown.
IV
Irma and Lanny meant to go as they had come, straight through. Lanny would buy food
ready prepared and they would eat it in the car while driving; they would take no chance of
entering a restaurant, and having some Brownshirt peddling Nazi literature stop in front of
them and exhibit a copy of Der Stürmer with an obscene cartoon showing a Jew as a hog with
a bulbous nose; if they declined to purchase it, likely as not the ruffian would spit into their
food and walk away jeering. Such things had happened in Berlin, and much worse; for until a
few days ago these peddlers of literature had gone armed with the regulation automatic revolver
and hard rubber club, and in one cafe where Jewish merchants had been accustomed to eat, a
crowd of the S.A. men had fallen upon them and forced them to run the gantlet, kicking and
clubbing them insensible.
Drive carefully, but fast, and stop only when necessary! The roads were good and the route
familiar, and meantime, safe from prying ears, they had much to talk about. The Robins were
informed that they owned some money which the Nazis had not been able to keep track of—those
sums which Johannes had spent in entertaining Irma Barnes. They would be repaid in
installments, as the family needed it, and the money was not to be considered a loan or a gift,
but board and passenger fares long overdue. Irma said this with the decisiveness which she was
acquiring; she had learned that her money gave her power to settle the destinies of other
people, and she found it pleasant exercising this power—always for their own good, of course.
There was the estate of Bienvenu with nobody in it but Hansi and Bess and Baby Frances
with her attendants. Mama and Rahel and her little one were to settle down in the Lodge and
learn to count their blessings. Johannes would probably wish to go to New York with Irma and
Lanny, for they had some business to transact with Robbie, and Johannes might be of help.
Lanny gave him Robbie's letter to read, and the spirits of this born trader began to show faint
signs of life. Yes, he might have ideas about the selling of Budd products; if Robbie should get
charge of the company, Johannes would offer to take his job as European representative. Or, if
