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a sort of light convulsion, and sputum began to drip from her lips. Lanny ran and got a towel

and wiped it away; he was frightened for a while, but gradually the moaning died, and after a

space the woman opened her eyes.

"Oh, what is the matter?" she asked; and then, seeing the empty chair: "Where is the old

gentleman?"

"He went away."

"He should not have done that. Something went wrong; I feel so bad."

"I am sorry, Madame. He was frightened."

"Did he hear something bad?"

"Very bad indeed."

"Somebody is dead?"

Lanny thought that was an easy way out. "Yes," he said. "He was not prepared for it and did

not want to show his feelings."

"It is terribly bad for me. Tecumseh will be angry."

"I think he will understand, Madame."

"It made me so weak; and my head aches."

"I am sorry. I will call for a little wine, if you like."

"Please do."

Lanny ordered some wine and biscuits. She would not eat, but she sipped the wine, and after

a while he helped her downstairs and into a taxi. He was interested to note that even under

these rather sensational circumstances the woman did not press him with questions. It was her

own feelings that she was concerned about. People should not treat her that way; they should

be more considerate.

He helped her on board the yacht, and Baby Johannes's nursemaid, who had become her

friend, helped her into bed. Beauty and the others were out seeing the sights of Dieppe, so

Lanny went to his own cabin to write up his notes a second time before his memories grew

cold.

A really striking experience! He couldn't judge about all the details—for example, the

hundred and sixty-nine sacks of gall—but Zaharoff's behavior was proof of the general accuracy

of the revelations. The young observer was clinging to his theory that these details had come out

of the subconscious mind of Zacharias Basileos ZaharofF, formerly Sahar, who had given several

names, several birthplaces and birthdates, according to his convenience at the moment. But

what a subconscious mind for a man to carry about with him! Were those the things he

thought about when he woke up in the small hours of the morning and couldn't get to sleep

again? How much money would it take to compensate a man for having such memories and

such feelings?

IX

Lanny could not forget that his own father was a manufacturer and salesman of munitions,

and that he had bribed and deceived and had documents stolen in order to promote various

deals. Did Robbie have a subconscious mind like that? Certainly he showed few signs of it. His

cheeks were rosy, he was sleeping well (so he reported), and he seemed to have his zest for life.

But was that all bluff? Was he holding himself up by his bootstraps? Lanny remembered how

quickly and how angrily Robbie would leap to the defense of the munitions industry

whenever he heard it attacked. That wasn't the sign of a mind perfectly at ease

Lanny had learned his father's formulas in earliest childhood. Budd Gunmakers Corporation

was one of the bulwarks of American national security, and what it did was a great patriotic

service. To say that it worked for profit was the vilest demagogy, because it put the profits back

into the business—that had been the family tradition for nearly a hundred years. To blame them

for selling munitions to other countries in times of peace was mere nonsense, for you couldn't

make munitions without skilled labor and you couldn't have such labor unless you gave it

work to do and paid it wages to live. The government wouldn't order any large supplies in

times of peace, but it expected to have a completely equipped plant running and ready to

serve it in case of need. What could you do but follow the example of all other merchants and

sell your goods whenever and wherever you could find customers?

There was a basic difference between Zacharias Basileos Zaharoff and Robbie Budd. Robbie

really considered himself a patriot, and no doubt that is an excellent thing for a subconscious

mind. On the other hand, Lanny had heard the old Greek say that he was a citizen of every

country where he owned property. Did he want to enable each of his countries to fight his other

countries? No, for Lanny had heard him, early in the year 1914, expressing his dread of war, in

language which had surprised and puzzled a very young idealist. Robbie had joked about his

attitude, saying that the old spider, the old wolf, the old devil wanted to sell munitions but

didn't want them used.

But they had been used, and Zaharoff had had to live and see them used—and evidently that

had been bad for his subconscious mind! Zaharoff had attended the Armistice Day

ceremonies and laid a wreath on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. He had thought about that

soldier, and now Lanny knew what he had thought! Had he guessed that the national hero of

France might be a Jew? Or was it that the national hero really had been a Jew? Was Zaharoff

himself a Jew, or part Jew? Lanny didn't know, and wasn't especially interested. There were