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the large hotels where he would find a telephone booth, and there put in a call for Jerry

Pendleton, Pension Flavin, Cannes. It takes time to achieve such a feat in Europe, but he

waited patiently, and at last heard his old pal's sleepy voice.

Lanny said: "The Detazes are ready, and I'm waiting in Munich for you. I am buying some

others, and want to close the deal and move them on Friday. Do you think you can get here

then?"

"By heck!" said Jerry. It was Wednesday midnight, and his voice came suddenly awake. "I

can't get visas until morning."

"You can hunt up the consul tonight and pay him extra."

"I'll have to go and make sure about Cyprien first." That was a nephew of Leese, who did

truck-driving for Bienvenu.

"All right, get him or somebody else. Make note of my address, and phone me at noon

tomorrow and again late in the evening, letting me know where you are. Come by way of Verona

and the Brenner, and don't let anything keep you from being here. If you should have a

breakdown, let Cyprien come with the truck, and you take a train, or a plane if you have to. I

have somebody here I want you to meet on Friday."

"O.K." said the ex-tutor and ex-soldier; he sort of sang it, with the accent on the first

syllable, and it was like a signature over the telephone.

IX

Baron von Zinszollern possessed an Anton Mauve, a large and generous work portraying a

shepherd leading home his flock in a pearly gray and green twilight. It seemed to Lanny a fine

example of that painter's poetical and serious feeling, and he had got the price down to thirty

thousand marks. He had telegraphed Zoltan that he was disposed to buy it as a gamble, and

did his friend care to go halves? His friend replied Yes, so he went that morning and bought the

work, paying two thousand marks down and agreeing to pay the balance within a week. This

involved signing papers, which Lanny would have on his person; also, an influential Nazi

sympathizer would have an interest in testifying that he was really an art expert. Incidentally

it gave Lanny a pretext for going to the Munich branch of the Hellstein Bank, and having

them pay him thirty thousand marks in Nazi paper.

At noon the dependable Jerry telephoned. He and Cyprien and the camion were past

Genoa. They would eat and sleep on board, and keep moving. Lanny told him to

telephone about ten in the evening wherever they were. Jerry sang: "O.K."

A little later came a call from "Boecklin," and Lanny took him for a drive. He said: "It's all

fixed. You're to pay twenty-three thousand marks, and your man will be delivered to you

anywhere in Dachau at twenty-two o'clock tomorrow evening. Will you be ready?"

"I'm pretty sure to. Here's your money." Lanny took out his wallet, and handed it to his

friend beside him. "Help yourself."

It was improbable that Hugo Behr, son of a shipping clerk, had ever had so much money in his

hands before. The hands trembled slightly as he took out the bundle of crisp new banknotes,

each for one thousand marks; he counted out twenty-three of them, while Lanny went on

driving and didn't seem to be especially interested. Hugo counted them a second time, both

times out loud.

"You'd better take your own, also," suggested the lordly one. "You know I might get into

some trouble."

"If you do, I'd rather be able to say you hadn't paid me anything. I'm doing it purely for

friendship's sake, and because you're a friend of Heinrich and Kurt."

"Lay all the emphasis you can on them!" chuckled Lanny. "Mention that Heinrich told you

how he had taken Kurt and me to visit the Führer last winter; and also that I told you

about taking a hunting trip with Göring. So you were sure I must be all right."

Hugo had got some news about Freddi which the other heard gladly. Apparently Lanny had

been right in what he had said about the Jewish prisoner; he had won the respect even of those

who were trying to crush him. Unfortunately he was in the hands of the Gestapo, which kept

him apart from the regular run of inmates. A prison inside the prison, it appeared! The rumor

was that they had been trying to force Freddi to reveal the names of certain Social-Democrats

who were operating an illegal press in Berlin; but he insisted that he knew nothing about it.

"He wouldn't be apt to know," said Lanny. To himself he added: "Trudi Schultz!"

It had been his intention to make a casual remark to his friend: "Oh, by the way, I wonder if

you could find out if there's a man in Dachau by the name of Ludwig Schultz." But now he

realized that it was not so simple as he had thought. To tell Hugo that he was trying to help

another of the dreaded "Marxists" might sour him on the whole deal. And for Hugo to tell his

friends in the concentration camp might have the same effect upon them. Lanny could do

nothing for poor Trudi—at least not this trip.

X

He drove the car to Dachau, and they rolled about its streets, to decide upon a spot which

would be dark and quiet. They learned the exact description of this place, so that Hugo