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the bench. His failure to obey annoyed them and they threw him down on his belly, with his

bare back and buttocks and thighs looming rather grotesque, his flabby white arms hanging

down to the floor. The four shirtless Nazis took their places, two on each side, and the officer

in command raised his hand in signal.

The thin steel rods whistled as they came down through the air; they made four clean cuts

across the naked body, followed by four quick spurts of blood. The old man started up with a

frightful scream of pain. They grabbed him and threw him down, and the officer cried: "Lie

still, Juden-Schwein! For that you get ten more blows!"

The poor victim lay shuddering and moaning, and Lanny, tense and sick with horror, waited

for the next strokes. He imagined the mental anguish of the victim because they did not fall at

once. The officer waited, and finally demanded: "You like that?"

"Nein, nein! Um Himmel's Willen!"

"Then tell us who took that gold out!"

"I have said a thousand times—if I knew, I would tell you. What more can I say? Have

mercy on me! I am a helpless old man!"

The leader raised his hand again, and the four rods whistled and fell as one. The man

shuddered; each time the anguish shook him, he shrieked like a madman. He knew nothing

about it, he would tell anything he knew, it had been done by somebody who had told him

nothing. His tones grew more piercing; then gradually they began to die, they became a

confused babble, the raving of a man in delirium. His words tripped over one another, his sobs

choked his cries.

Of the four beaters, the one who was working on the victim's shoulders apparently held the

post of honor, and it was his duty to keep count. Each time he struck he called aloud, and

when he said "Zehn" they all stopped. Forty strokes had been ordered, and the leader signed to

the civilian in spectacles, who proved to be a doctor; the high scientific function of this disciple

of Hippocrates was to make sure how much the victim could stand. He put a stethoscope to the

raw flesh of the old Jew's back, and listened. Then he nodded and said: "Noch eins."

The leader was in the act of moving his finger to give the signal when there came an

interruption to the proceedings; a voice speaking loud and clear: "You dirty dogs!" It rushed

on: "Ihr dreckigen Schweinehunde, Ihr seid eine Schandfleck der Menschheit!"

For a moment everybody in the room seemed to be paralyzed. It was utterly unprecedented,

unprovided for in any military regulations. But not for long. The officer shouted: " 'Rrraus mit

ihm!" and the two statues besides Lanny came suddenly to life and led him away. But not until

he had repeated loudly and clearly: "I say that you dishonor the form of men!"

IX

Back in his cell, Lanny thought: "Now I've cooked my goose!" He thought: "They'll invent

something special for me." He discovered that his frenzy, his inspiration, whatever it was, had

passed quickly; in darkness and silence he realized that he had done some thing very foolish,

something that could do no good to the poor old banker and could do great harm to himself.

But there was no undoing it, and no good lamenting, no good letting his bones turn to pulp

again. He had to get back that mood of rage and determination, and learn to hold it, no matter

what might come. It was a psychological exercise, a highly difficult one. Sometimes he thought he

was succeeding, but then he would hear with his mind's ears the whistle of those terrible steel

rods, and he would find that a disgraceful trembling seized him.

Waiting was the worst of all; he actually thought he would feel relief when his cell door was

opened. But when he heard the steps coming, he found that he was frightened again, and had to

start work all over. He must not let them think that they could cow an American. He clenched

his hands tightly, set his teeth, and looked out into the corridor. There in the dim light was the

S.S. man to whom he had been handcuffed for a whole night—and behind that man, looking over

his shoulder, the deeply concerned face of Ober-leutnant Furtwaengler!

"Well, well, Herr Budd!" said the young staff officer. "What have they been doing to you?"

Lanny had to change his mood with lightning speed. He was busily hating all the Nazis; but

he didn't hate this naive and worshipful young social climber. "Herr Oberleutnant!" he

exclaimed, with relief that was like a prayer.

"Come out," said the other, and looked his friend over as if to see if he showed any signs of

damage. "What have they done to you?"

"They have made me rather uncomfortable," replied the prisoner, resuming the Anglo-Saxon

manner.

"It is most unfortunate!" exclaimed the officer. "Seine Exzellenz will be distressed."

"So was I," admitted the prisoner.

"Why did you not let us know?"

"I did my best to let somebody know; but I was not successful."

"This is a disgraceful incident!" exclaimed the other, turning to the S.S. man. "Some one will