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monster is a brother of mine, and if I find one of them attempting to cohabit with an Aryan

woman I will crush his skull, even as our Stormtrooper song demands: 'Crush the skulls of the

Jewish pack!' Pardon me if I speak plainly, but that has been my life's habit, it is the duty which

I have been sent to perform in this world. Have you read Mein Kampf?"

"Yes, Herr Reichskanzler."

"You know what I have taught in it: 'The Jew is the great instigator of the destruction of

Germany.' They are, as I have called them, 'true devils, with the brain of a monster and not that

of a man.' They are the veritable Untermenschen. There is a textbook of Hermann Gauch,

called Neue Grundlage der Rassenforschung, which is now standard in our schools and

universities, and which tells with scientific authority the truths about this odious race. Our

eminent scientist classifies the mammals into two groups, first the Aryans, and second, non-

Aryans, including the rest of the animal kingdom.

You have seen that book, by chance?"

"I have heard it discussed, Herr Reichskanzler."

"You do not accept its authority?"

"I am not a scientist, and my acceptance or rejection would carry no weight. I have heard the

point raised that Jews must be human beings because they can mate with Aryans and Nordics,

but not with non-human animals."

"Dr. Gauch says it has by no means been proved that Jews cannot mate with apes and other

simian creatures. I suggest this as an important contribution which German science can make

—to mate both male and female Jews with apes, and so demonstrate to the world the facts

which we National Socialists have been proclaiming for so many years."

VIII

The master of all Germany had got started on one of his two favorite topics, the other being

Bolshevism. Again Lanny observed the phenomenon that an audience of three was as good as

three million. The sleepy look went out of the speaker's eyes and they became fixed upon the

unfortunate transgressor in a hypnotic stare. The quiet voice rose to a shrill falsetto.

Something new appeared in the man, demonic and truly terrifying; the thrust-out finger

struck as it were hammer blows upon Lanny's mind. A young American playboy must be made to

realize the monstrous nature of the treason he was committing in condoning his sister's

defilement of the sacred Aryan blood. Somehow, at once, the evil must be averted; the man who

had been commissioned by destiny to save the world must prove his power here and now, by

bringing this strayed sheep back into the Nordic fold. "Gift!" cried the Führer of the Nazis.

"Poison! Poison.'"

Back in New England, Lanny's Great-Great-Uncle Eli Budd had told him the story of the witch-

hunt in early Massachusetts. "Fanaticism is a destroyer of mind," he had said. Here it was in

another form—the terrors, the fantasies born of soul torment, the vision of supernatural evil

powers plotting the downfall of all that was good and fair in human life. Adi really loved the

Germans: their Gemütlichkeit, their Treue und Ehre, their beautiful songs and noble symphonies,

their science and art, their culture in its thousand forms. But here was this satanic power,

plotting, scheming day and night to destroy it all. Die Juden sind schuld!

Yes, literally, the Jews were to blame for everything; Hitler called the roll of their crimes for

the ten thousandth time. They had taught revolt to Germany, they had undermined her

patriotism and discipline, and in her hour of greatest peril they had stabbed her in the back.

The Jews had helped to shackle her by the cruel Diktat of Versailles, and then had proceeded to

rivet the chains of poverty upon her limbs. They had made the inflation, they had contrived the

Dawes Plan, the Young Plan, the systems of interest and reparations slavery; the Jewish

bankers in alliance with the Jewish Bolsheviks! They had seduced all German culture—theater,

literature, music, journalism. They had sneaked into the professions, the sciences, the schools, and

universities—and, as always, they had defiled and degraded whatever they touched. Die Juden sind

unser Ungluck!

This went on for at least half an hour; and never once did anybody else get in a word. The

man's tirade poured out so fast that his sentences stumbled over one another; he forgot to

finish them, he forgot his grammar, he forgot common decency and used the words of the

gutters of Vienna, where he had picked up his ideas. The perspiration stood out on his

forehead and his clean white collar began to wilt. In short, he gave the same performance

which Lanny had witnessed in the Bürgerbraukeller of Munich more than a decade ago. But

that had been a huge beerhall with two or three thousand people, while here it was like being

shut up in a small chamber with a hundred-piece orchestra including eight trombones and four

bass tubas playing the overture to The Flying Dutchman.