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 weltberühmter 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.