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"What do you suppose will be my state of mind while you are in there risking your life with

those dreadful men?"

"It will be a mistake to exaggerate the danger. I don't think they'll do serious harm to an

American."

"You know they have done shocking things to Americans. You have talked about it often."

"What happened in those cases was accidental; they were mix-ups in street crowds and

public places. You and I have connections in Germany, and I don't think the authorities will

do me any harm on purpose."

"Even if they catch you breaking their laws?"

"I think they'll give me a good scare and put me out."

"You know you don't believe that, Lanny! You're only trying to quiet me down. You will be in

perfectly frightful danger, and I will be in torment."

She broke down and began to weep. It was the first time he had seen her do that, and he was a

soft-hearted man. But he had been thinking it over for a year, and had made up his mind that

this would be the test of his soul. "If I funk this, I'm no good; I'm the waster and parasite I've

always been called."

There was no way to end the argument. He couldn't make her realize the importance of the

matter to him; the duty he owed to what he called "the cause." He had made Freddi Robin

into a Socialist; had taught him the ideal of human brotherhood and equality, what he called

"social justice." But Irma hated all these high-sounding words; she had heard them spoken by so

many disagreeable persons, mostly trying to get money, that the words had become poison to

her. She didn't believe in this "cause"; she believed that brotherhood was rather repulsive, that

equality was another name for envy, and social justice an excuse for outrageous income and

inheritance taxes. So her tears dried quickly, and she grew angry with herself for having shed

them, and with him for making her shed them.

She said: "Lanny, I warn you; you are ruining our love. You are doing something I shall

never be able to forgive you for."

All he could answer was: "I am sorry, darling; but if you made me give up what I believe is

my duty, I should never be able to forgive either you or myself."

II

The airmail letter from Juan arrived. Freddi's message had been written in pencil on a small

piece of flimsy paper, crumpled up as if someone had hidden it in his mouth or other bodily

orifice. It was faded, but Rahel had smoothed it out and pasted the corners to a sheet of

white paper so that it could be read. It was addressed to Lanny and written in English. "I am in

a bad way. I have written to you but had no reply. They are trying to make me tell about other

people and I will not. But I cannot stand any more. Do one thing for me, try to get some poison

to me. Do not believe anything they say about me. Tell our friends I have been true."

There was no signature; Freddi knew that Lanny would know his handwriting, shaky and

uncertain as it was. The envelope was plain, and had been mailed in Munich; the handwriting

of the address was not known to Lanny, and Rahel in her letter said that she didn't know it

either.

So there it was. Irma broke down again; it was worse than she had imagined, and she knew

now that she couldn't keep Lanny from going. She stopped arguing with him about political

questions, and tried only to convince him of the futility of whatever efforts he might make.

The Nazis owned Germany, and it was madness to imagine that he could thwart their will

inside their own country. She offered to put up money, any amount of money, even if she had to

withdraw from social life. "Go and see Göring," she pleaded. "Offer him cash, straight out."

But Rick—oh, how she hated him all of a sudden!—Rick had persuaded Lanny that this was not

to be done. Lanny wouldn't go near Göring, or any of the other Nazis, not even Kurt, not even

Heinrich. They wouldn't help, and might report him and have him watched. Göring or

Goebbels would be sure to take such measures. Lanny said flatly: "I'm going to help Freddi to

escape from Dachau."

"Fly over the walls, I suppose?" inquired Irma, with bitterness.

"There are many different ways of getting out of prison. There are people in France right now

who have managed to do it. Sometimes they dig under the walls; sometimes they hide in

delivery wagons, or are carried out in coffins. I'll find somebody to help me for a price."

"Just walk up to somebody on the street and say: 'How much will you charge to help me get a

friend out of Dachau?' "

"It's no good quarreling, dear. I have to put my mind on what I mean to do. I don't want to

delay, because if I do, Freddi may be dead, and then I'd blame myself until I was dead, too."

So Irma had to give up. She had told him what was in her heart, and even though she would

break down and weep, she wouldn't change; on the contrary, she would hold it against him

that he had made her behave in that undignified fashion. In her heart she knew that she

hated the Robin family, all of them; they were alien to her, strangers to her soul. If she could